Ruthless: The 89th Hunger Games
by The Girl With The Knives
Summary: Head Gamemaker Estella Eden and President Cetus Altair prepare for yet another brutal Games, full of traps and surprises. But they both know the key aspect to a good Hunger Games is the set of tributes they receive. *sorry that summary sucked but you get the idea. this is all considering Katniss died in the games and a rebellion started but failed*
1. Prologue I - Fetus Friends Cult

**_Prologue I - Fetus Friends Cult_**

 ** _Spring of 3164_**

 ** _Capitol - Estella Eden, 15_**

Puddles fan out behind me as I tear through the Capitol streets on my blue and white bike. I'd named her Celeste after the victor from District Four in the 60th Hunger Games. _What kind of idiot names her bike?_ Raindrops slide off of my aviators and I wipe them clean with my sleeve, annoyed. A bump in the sidewalk takes me off guard and I narrowly avoid falling off of Celeste as I bounce dangerously over the concrete.

The roads today aren't as busy as they usually are. Every Capitolite from the President's Mansion to the Fence has been awaiting this day all year. Ever since the anticlimactic victory last year from Nia Lloyd, everyone's been expecting a particularly violent 64th Hunger Games. My phone buzzes from the pocket of my dark leather jacket, and I slide it out.

Bryden: where tf are you? the reapings are about to start any second now!

I groan and put my phone back in my pocket, looking up just in time to see the terrified face of a girl about my age with long purple hair and wide hazel eyes. I let out a shrill shriek as I ram right into her and I go flying over the handlebars and fall flat on my back on the sidewalk.

Moaning, I roll over and sit up, my head spinning. My aviators are lying a few feet next to me, thankfully not shattered. They were given to me by Celeste Green herself, the same aviators she wore on the Victor's Parade.

"Ow," someone says. I turn, gasping slightly. Not because of the bruised mess of a girl on the wet ground, but because of the crumpled, tangled figure of what used to be a bicycle. I let a whimper escape my throat and get to my feet. The girl turns around and glares at me. "Maybe you should watch where you're going, bitch!"

Shocked, I step backwards a little bit, but get over my initial surprise in seconds. "I'm not the one who didn't move, idiot," I mutter, taking a threatening step towards her. She scampers to her feet, and I can see the disappointment on her face when she realizes she's at least a foot shorter than me. My eyes flicker to Celeste, my prized bike. "You broke my bike," I growl. I bring my fists together and crack my knuckles. The purple-haired girl gulps.

"Sorry," she squeaks. I laugh, a booming, solid laugh. A laugh not filled with poison like Celeste's, but with threats. Sincere predictions, I like to call them.

"You better be," I say, dusting off my black pants, fresh rips in the knees. Not _stylish_ , I think angrily. "Get lost, loser," I spit. She whimpers and scoops up a small backpack I hadn't seen lying on the ground, then sprints away, tail between her legs. I crack a satisfied smile, thinking about how awesome I must look. _Probably like Celeste_ , I think dreamily.

 _Celeste_. I groan, looking at my damaged bike. There was no fixing it. I'm surprised the girl didn't break a bone or something, it looked like I had hit a wall square on. Sighing, I dump the bike on some poor person's lawn, deciding it's not my problem anymore, and I start stomping towards Bryden's house. My shoulder length white-blonde hair smacks against my face with every step, sticking to my cheeks and my chin and my nose. Aggravated, I pull the mass of drenched hair back and tie it into a very small ponytail at the back of my head.

Eventually I turn the corner into Bryden's cozy little cul de sac. I stomp through his fake lawn, my boots squelching into the mud. I throw open the door, already on his family's face-recognition list. "Estella Eden," a calming woman's voice says my name from the speakers built into the doorway. The volume's on low so nobody notices me standing there. Angrily, I pull my black boots off of my feet, almost yanking my right foot out of its socket. Then I step into the warm triple-storied house and slam the door behind me.

I see Bryden at the counter in his kitchen, sitting idly on a bar stool. He looks insanely bored, listening to Melvina May tell some story of hers while pouring exotic alcohols together. Bryden yawns, turns, and sees me standing drenched in his foyer. "Stella!" he says, his lips curving upwards in a bright smile. I can't help but to drop my shoulders, relax my fists, and crack a similar smile, blue eyes lighting up. Bryden Blanche is contagious like that. "I thought you crashed or something," he said, coming up to me. He looks me up and down and punches the command for a towel into his iButler on the wall. Seconds later, a warm white towel slides out from a slot right under the little white box. I grab it eagerly and throw it over my shoulders.

"I did," I say, laughing.

"Oh, do tell!" Melvina says, still standing in the kitchen. She puts a hand on her hips and tilts the glass of alcohol back. I watch her throat move as she swallows it. I could never handle alcohol. I don't know how Melvina does it. When we were 13 she told me she just pretended like she liked alcohol so people thought she was cool. At the ripe age of 15, it doesn't seem cool anymore, it just seems common.

"This stupid girl didn't move when I was coming here. I wrecked my bike," I say, shrugging. Melvina turns to stare at me. Her golden locks bounce around her full chest and her grey eyes sparkle mischievously. I've always been jealous of her.

"You don't mean to say…" she starts, trailing off and raising an eyebrow.

I let out an embarrassing laugh. "No, Mel! I just terrified her and she ran off," I confirmed.

"Sure, ok," Bryden says, crossing his arms and chuckling. A lock of electric blue hair covers his right eye and he tosses his head so it's sent backwards for a few seconds before ultimately falling back over his crimson eyes, his natural honey brown ones covered by contacts. Bryden always reminded me of a horse when we were growing up. He had brown hair and brown eyes and he'd flick his head and snort when he was annoyed. Now he's just silent when he's annoyed. Confident and cocky, but I know he's self-conscious under his attitude.

"You got the TV up and running?" I ask, glancing at a holographic clock projected above the virtual fireplace in Bryden's parlor.

"Yeah. They've just been playing pre-recorded interviews with mentors and stuff. And sneak peaks for the reapings," Melvina says. One of the reasons Bryden and I decided we would let her into our 'fetus friends cult' was because her name was an alliteration, much like ours. And obviously, three kids with alliterative names were a force to be reckoned with.

I follow Bryden back into the kitchen, which is adjoined with his family room and his dining room. Of course, usually we like to watch movies and things in the theater upstairs, but Melvina insists on constantly making food and drinks for us instead of ordering iButler to make it for us. I have to say, a fresh gooey batch of Mel's chocolate chip cookies is heaven compared to the crispy processed biscuits iButler tries to feed to us.

"Last question, Vernal," Caesar Flickerman says on the large screen. Besides the usually beautiful Careers and ever so rare chisel-faced outer district tribute, all the girls at my school swoon over Caesar. I get it, he's young and handsome and single, but I just don't see him the way everyone else does. "Do you believe your tributes will have a shot of winning?"

Vernal Alexandra from District Two laughs a raspy laugh. A laugh all Careers perfect before even thinking of volunteering. Of course I know this, I'm a Hunger Games fanatic. I've studied the games, written essays on them, fan stories on them, made up my own tributes, pretended I was a Career, you name it. I know everything about the Games. When I was little I used to want to be _in_ the games. As I grew up I settled for just watching the games. And now… _And now…_ I think to myself, a sly smile gracing my features. "Of course they do!" Vernal says confidently, his beady eyes fixing on the camera as if to challenge someone to tell him otherwise. _Now I want to_ make _the games._

 _ **A/N:**_ _hey guys, i'm back! this is probably a bigggg mistake but anyway, as you can see, i'm trying my hand at another SYOT. let's hope this one doesn't go down in flames like the other two... the form will be on my profile as well as the tribute list, and i'm writing this all on my phone so i'm really sorry if there are mistakes or anything. *happy accidents_

 _i'm planning on updating at least once every two weeks but i'll aim for every weekend at least until school stops. thanks babes!_

 _-knifey_

 _shower thought of the day: the hunger games is just a really long episode of Black Mirror._


	2. Prologue II - Lonely Mice

**_Prologue II - Lonely Mice_**

 ** _Spring of 3164_**

 ** _District Nine - Cetus Altair, 17_**

The long grass rustles my bare legs as I step lightly through the fields. A house stands all alone off to my far right. _Alone_. I can relate with that house more than I can relate to any person. I stand and watch it's old wooden walls shudder slightly. _It must be ancient if it can barely stand a minuscule Spring breeze,_ I think to myself. A just as ancient old woman steps out from the shack and kicks the wall, her dry lips forming words I'd assume aren't kind. She spots me out of the corner of her eye and jumps, a withered hand pressing against her chest. She shields her eyes with her other hand and peers at me. A warm gust of wind blows my dark brown hair into my eyes, and I make a promise to cut it as soon as I get back to the Capitol. The old woman shudders in time with her house and scurries back through the tilted doorway like a mouse.

 _Why does she live so far away from everyone else?_ I wonder for half a second before dismissing the thought and continuing on my way. _Maybe she just likes being alone._ I push through the grass and suddenly sink into a soft patch of dirt. I make an oddly animalistic noise as my legs give out and I fall to my knees. Groaning, I pull my feet out of the dirt and stretch them. My dark skin shines in the moonlight, and I smile to myself as I think, _Out of all the places in Panem, the moon chose to shine on me._ I hold my hand out in the wash of milky light and let myself fall flat on my back, the grateful smile still gracing my features. _Subdued features,_ I think, my mother's voice reflecting in my mind. _Nobody likes subdued features. They want bold ones._

I adjust my cropped T-shirt so it covers more of my back, and fold my hands under the back of my head as a makeshift pillow. Gleaming white holes in the sky dot my vision, framed by the long strands of dry grass reaching up to the heavens. I sigh dreamily. All my life I've wanted to be an astronomer. More than once I've mixed up the words 'astronomy' and 'astrology', the stupid idea that stars dictate one's future. The Capitolites back home are crazy for astrology. My parents told me there was no glory in astronomy. They reminded me that no astronomer held any value in the Capitolites' hearts. They told me that all the stars had already been found, but I knew then they were lying. If all the stars had already been found, labeled, researched, then why would we still be living on a dying planet? My little boy mind had spun tales and theories of what might have happened to the rest world. Maybe all the stars _had_ been found. Maybe all the other countries had left. Maybe Panem was alone…

My chocolate brown eyes search determinedly for the constellation I was named after. _Cetus._ My gaze finally rests on it in the far right of the sky, and I follow the millions of stars down to the farthest left star, all the way on the different side of the night sky than Cetus. _Altair._ I left the word magical behind when I was about 8, but now it pops up in my mind again. The stars have never ceased to appear as magic to me. My name has never ceased to appear as magic. The idea that my family name, Altair, and my own name, Cetus, lay on opposite sides of the sky from each other always struck me as an omen of sorts.

 _Somewhere, miles away, the Capitolites are already placing bets,_ I think. I've never felt any strong feelings about the Hunger Games. I've never loved the idea of them and I've never hated the idea of them. It's a reasonable idea to host a series of 'Games' reminding past rebels their time is up, and simultaneously thinning the ever expanding population. However, I think the President could go about it in a different way. Targeting the disabled and diseased would be more efficient, making our species stronger as a whole. If we have the capability of singling out our weaknesses and destroying it, why do we pass up the opportunity?

A small squeak breaks me away from my thoughts and I turn my head to see a small light brown mouse pushing through the bottom of the grasses. I watch as the little animal's paws make the tiniest of imprints in the dirt, and I make a point to stay perfectly still. The mouse cautiously creeps closer to my face, nose twitching madly. I close my eyes and let the creature sniff my forehead, my nose, and my left eyelid. Then the miniscule itch of the small mouse's fine whiskers disappears and I crack open an eye. I see the mouse's tail trail along the ground towards my legs and I sit up, slowly so as not to startle the tiny animal. The mouse's face turns slightly to eye me warily, and then he turns back around and continues sniffing down my leg. His paws reach up and I feel the scratch of tiny mouse claws on my shin. Seemingly bored, he turns and disappears back the way he came in seemingly no hurry. I chuckle, staring after him.

I've never been terribly fond of people. Humans are unpredictable and cruel. I've never feared zombies, ghosts, demons, or even nature. They're all predictable now. I used to think zombies were more terrifying than people until I realized zombies only wanted one thing and you could never tell what people wanted. Animals are much more different than people, and that's why I like them. I wish I were an astronomer up in the endless sky away from people. Away from my overbearing parents, eccentric Capitolites who are never pleased with the way I dress or the way I act, friends who talk words of hate behind my back, and horror movies lacking the true component of fear. _The only thing I'd miss would be the animals,_ I think solemnly.

"Cetus?! Cetus Ozark Altair you come out of that mangy, dirty, disgusting field right now or I swear to God I will make you wish you were never born!" I gulp at the distant voice of my mother, shrinking down deeper into my grassy hideout.

"Cetus, I think your mother wants you," my dad says, his tired raspy voice coming from much closer than I'd thought he was.

"Dad?" I ask, sitting up. A flashlight flicks on and shines straight into my eyes. I yelp and block my face with my left palm.

"Playing in the dirt again, I see," my dad says. "Son, you know you're too old to be wandering off." I stand up, dusting myself off and see my mother's frantically waving flashlight off in the distance. She doesn't seem to have realized I've already been found.

"I wasn't playing, I wa-"

"Whatever it was you were doing out here, it's time to go home," my dad interrupts, angrily waving a hand in dismissal. I open my mouth to tell him off in the kindest way possible, but he stops me by grabbing my wrist and pulling me through the singing grass to where my mother stands, furious.

"Cetus Ozark Altair did I _not_ tell you to stay put right beside us?" she asks. I open my mouth to answer her but she cuts me off, holding up a finger. "It's our job to provide a live documentation of the Pre-Games events, and you act like it is _nothing. Nothing!_ We work long and hard to pay for you and are you grateful? _No._ You asked to come with us this year, did you even want to?" She starts to say something, but then stops exasperated. "What are you even doing this far up in District Nine?" she asks, her voice suddenly as tired as my dad's.

"I… wanted to see the stars," I say meekly. She sighs and swivels on her heels, stomping through the field back to where the hovercraft must be waiting for us. "A future gamemaker does not have time to look at stars," I hear her mutter under her breath. Having heard this phrase said to me a million times and more, I dismiss it before the last word even leaves her mouth. Instead, I think about what she would say if I told her about the mouse. ' _Rats carry diseases!'_ I imagine her shrieking in disgust. I chuckle to myself and then follow her. My father pulls me back by the wrist he hasn't let go of and I huff in annoyance.

"You can carry these, he says coldly, shoving the box of two heavy cameras into my chest. I wrap my arms around them and nearly buckle under the weight.

"I can barely hold them," I growl. He shrugs and pats me on the back, then steps away from me, in the direction of the district square. Grumbling to myself, I stagger after him.

 ** _A/N:_** _sorry for the wait, and also sorry for the extra prologue, i really wanted to have a similar chapter for Cetus(not really sure how i feel about this one, but oh well)... anyway, thank you so much for all the tribute submissions! there are still six empty spots at the time I'm writing this: D3 female, both from D7, both from D9, and D12 male. after this, i'll be publishing the reapings chapter, and i'll hopefully get the first one out by sunday(US) or maybe sooner. my plan is to have two districts in one reaping chapter so they go by faster 'cause i hate writing them and i know people *usually* hate reading them._

 _reviews are always appreciated! which of the two(Estella or Cetus) do you like more?_

 _-knifey_

 _shower thought of the day: 'incorrectly' is always spelled 'incorrectly' unless it's spelled incorrectly. (sorry that wasn't original, if you guys have any shower thoughts i could really use them haha)_


	3. Chapter I - Bet on You

_**Chapter I - Bet on You**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District One**_

 _ **D1F17 - Crystal Silverstone**_

I wake up long before I need to, the glowing yellow numbers on the digital clock by my bed reading 4:30am. I was originally planning on waking up at 5:30am and taking my time getting dressed for the reapings. But now that I'm up, there's no going back to bed knowing this will be the last time I wake up in this house. Whatever happens after today will dictate how the rest of my life unfolds. I could either win the Games, and the next time I wake up in District One will be in a sprawling mansion, or… I'd rather not think about the other possibility.

I push the fluffy comforters aside and sit up, stretching. My back arches and I press my fingers against each other, a satisfying pop sounding from each knuckle. I let out a satisfied sigh and slide my toned legs out of the warm blankets. I sit on the edge of my bed with my head resting in my palms, thinking. My long brown hair falls around my face, isolating me from the rest of the room. I let out another sigh, this one not so satisfied.

"Crystal?" I glance up at the timid voice of my little brother, Platinum, standing in the doorway.

"Hm?"

"Are you ok?" He walks towards me, and I notice he's gripping a white teddy bear that's turned almost yellow with age. A pang of sickening fear hits me like a wave when I see it, sparking old memories.

"What are you doing with that bear?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Wha- Oh. Mom gave it to me a while ago. She said it used to be yours," Platinum says, looking at me with wide eyes. "Why? Are you ok?" he asks again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him, giving him a loose smile. He returns it happily. "Aren't you a little old for toys?" I ask, rolling over and pushing cotton candy pink curtains away from a window above my bed. Faint white light streams in from the stars and the moon, but it fails to completely light up my room.

"Aren't you?" Platinum says, gesturing towards an ancient lonely ragdoll sitting in a corner by herself.

"Okay, well I haven't touched that thing in years," I say defensively. He smiles and lets the bear hang by an arm, and I watch the stitching loosen slightly. Images of my father flash in my mind and I wince, feeling the bruises on my skin as if they were given to me just yesterday when in reality it's been three years. "I'm just scared for you," my little brother adds.

"Don't be scared. I've trained for this," I assure him. I flash a sparkling white grin at him and flex my muscles. He laughs, shaking his head at me.

"You're such a hothead," he says.

"Can you hit the lights?" I ask, ignoring him. I stand up and head over to my desk. A simple black skirt and white blouse are draped over the chair, and I scoop them up and throw them on my bed. The lights flicker on but my brother doesn't leave. I swivel around and look expectantly at Platinum.

"Oh, sorry," he says after a while, scurrying away and closing the door behind him. I chuckle, slipping out of my pajamas and into my reaping clothes. I carefully tuck the blouse into the skirt and admire myself from in front of the full length mirror on the back of my door.

I snatch a brush off of the top of the dresser to my right and start fixing my hair. I braid two sections of hair by my right and left temple and tie them together at the back of my head for a braided half up-half down kind of hairdo. Satisfied with how I look, I slip on a silver ring my grandmother passed down to me. It has an elegant butterfly of the same shining silver perched on the curve, its wings unfolded as if ready to leap into flight at any second. I smile, turning my finger so it catches the light. I've been deciding on what my token would be for almost a month now, ever since the Academy decided that this year I would be the one to volunteer. Of course, I'm not in it just for the glory and the fame, I need to earn money to support my family. I don't want Platinum or Ruby, my little sister, to have to take tesserae or train for the Games like I have. I want a comfortable life for them, and that's what's going to happen.

I look around my room for the last time, decide against making my bed(what would the point be?), and quietly tiptoe downstairs. I run into my mother sipping tea at the dining room table, and she looks up tiredly. "Hello, darling," she says. I glance around the corner at the old analog clock in the kitchen, reading 4:58.

"Hi, mom," I say kindly.

"This is for you," she says, gesturing to two pieces of golden brown toast laying on a chipped plate beside her. I give her a thankful smile and gracefully sit down next to her.

"Why are you all up so early?" I ask through a mouthful of bread.

"What?" she asks, setting her tea down.

"Oh, uh… I mean, why are _you_ up so early?" I correct myself, realizing I snitched on Platinum. _Oops._

"Hm," my mom says, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "How could I sleep the night before my eldest daughter leaves?" she says, a broken smile gracing her worn lips. My mom's been cracked before, but she's never let it break it her. She only gets stronger. Three years ago she divorced my abusive father and moved away with me, and she's only gotten stronger.

"Mom," I say, placing my hand on hers. "I'm not leaving forever."

"Hm," she says again, turning away from me and looking into her nearly gone tea.

I scrape the edges of my toast with a finger, not knowing what to say to make her feel better. I eventually decide to give her some space and carefully get up from the table. "Are you going to finish that?" she asks pointedly.

"I'm sure there's going to be plenty of food on the train," I assure her, smiling. She shakes her head at me but doesn't object when I slip back upstairs. I knock on Platinum's door and it swings open to reveal my little brother trying to get his hair to lay flat. I laugh and he makes a face at me.

"Shut up," he says in mock anger.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Let me help," I say. I reach out and ruffle his hair, giggling.

"Hey!" Platinum says indignantly, slapping my hands away. He tries to fix it but gives up, shooting me a glare. "Jerk," he mutters.

"Looks better, trust me," I say, shrugging. He wolfs down my leftover toast when we get downstairs, mom still sitting silently at the table. I wash her empty cup and leave it out to dry, then pull on my only clean pair of shoes. "Hurry up," I say to Platinum. "I wanna see Spark."

"I'm going to take my time," he says, slowly rinsing his plate off.

"I swear to God," I growl jokingly, grabbing the back of his shirt and practically dragging him out of the house.

"Bye, mom!" we both say in unison. In about ten minutes, we get to Spark's comfy one-story house. I knock loudly on the door, and Spark's dad answers.

"Hey Mr. Alston, is Spark here?" I ask politely. He opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by my best friend.

"Sure am, Chrissy," Spark says, peeking out from the dimly lit hallway behind his dad. "See you later, dad," he adds, ducking under his arm and following my brother and me. I glance back to see the door softly close as Mr. Alston heads back inside, probably to get ready for the reapings himself.

Spark and I talk the whole way to the town square, him cracking jokes that never fail to make me smile and me filling him in on all the latest gossip going around school. The constant chatter makes the long walk feel like a measly five minutes, and it isn't long before we arrive at the square. Platinum is visibly nervous once we get in line, and I wrap an arm around his shoulders. "You okay?" I ask. He nods.

"I just… what if I get picked? And nobody volunteers? Why are _you_ volunteering? You don't _have_ to, you know," my brother says, green eyes wide. Spark chuckles from the left of me.

"You'll be fine. Someone always volunteers, you have nothing to worry about," I say. "You've done this before." I'm about to defend myself volunteering but the Peacekeeper sitting at the pearly white desk holds his hand out and impatiently demands my finger. "You know where to go?" I ask, making sure.

"Yeah, I'm not _dumb_ ," Platinum says, rolling his eyes. I smile sweetly at him, then scruff up his hair again, much to his annoyance. The line moves forward, sectioning me off from Platinum and Spark, and I silently go to my assigned section near the stage, right behind the 18 year olds. In the minutes I have before the reapings start, I glance around at the cameras stationed around the square. I chuckle to myself. It's odd to think that none of the cameramen or Capitolites know what I'm about to do. A rustle of nervous chatter sparks suddenly in the crowd of teenagers, and I look at the stage to see the victors and mayor taking their seats and the extravagant new escort stepping up to the microphone. _I hope mom and Ruby got here in time,_ I think.

The escort introduces herself as Ambrosia Clyde and laughs nervously. The obnoxious sound echoes around the square and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I'd rather have our old escort, no matter how old and boring he was. Ambrosia adjusts her immense vomit green wig, a wide toothy smile plastered on her powdered face. She clicks a button on a small remote in her dainty left hand and steps back. Her mouth moves quickly, as if she's running lines, while the usual video reminding us of the Dark Days and the failed rebellion plays.

"Ah, now wasn't that lovely?" she says, laughing nervously again. I feel the need to face palm, but suppress it. I can feel nervous sweat breaking out, knowing my moment is coming up. I barely hear her when she says the typical, "Ladies first," and parades over to the large glass bowl, wig bobbling with every step. My stomach flips as she reaches a pale hand into the bowl, picks a neatly folded piece of paper and brings it to her face so she can read the name. For a second I wonder who folded the papers and whether they fold new ones every year, but then I'm snapped back to reality when Ambrosia nervously asks for volunteers. _Shit._ Everyone around me is staring expectantly, judging. I glance at Spark and see he's looking at me almost the same way, but I know he's not judging.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I say, my voice embarrassingly high. I had planned to sound confident, but I guess now I'll have to work just a little bit harder. I flash an intimidating smile in the direction of the stage, and step out of the crowd, into the walkway, feeling all eyes on me. I somehow make it to the stairs without tripping, and start the short climb to my future. Each tap of my shoes on the old wood hits me, reminding me of the choice I just made. Swallowing my fear, I step in front of my designated microphone and answer Ambrosia when she asks for my name. "Crystal Silverstone," I answer, my voice lower and thankfully more intimidating. I spot Ruby and my mom in the far back of the square, and my smile grows softer for a second before I fix it. _I'll make it back,_ I promise to myself.

 _ **D1M18 - Topaz Trinity**_

"Right hook! Now go for the stomach! Sweep!" my dad calls from the side of the platform. Alessandra goes down as I deliver a swift kick to the inside of her knee. She lands flat on her back and lays there, stunned. My typical easy smile blooms on my tanned face, and I reach down an arm to help her up. Huffing, she glares at me with her smoldering brown eyes and refuses to take my hand. I shrug and turn to my dad.

"How was that, dad?" I ask. He claps his hands slowly, then cracks a grin. I see Alessandra get up out of the corner of my eye, but I don't see when she deals a quick but deadly kick to my groin.

"Ow," I whimper. She flashes a satisfied smirk at me.

"Don't let your guard down, dick," she says, her eyes alight with mischief. I turn to my dad, who's busy trying to stifle his laughter. The motion light outside flickers on and I see my training partner, Sphene Philip, elegantly rush through the immense glass double doors in the front of the Academy.

"Glad to see you, Sphene!" my dad says, his voice echoing in the empty building. Sphene huffs and pulls her sleeves over her hands.

"You too, Mr. Trinity," she answers, her voice muffled by her covered palms hurriedly rubbing her face to warm it. I give her a casual nod as she approaches, now tying her silky brunette hair into a ponytail. Alessandra mumbles a greeting through the mouthful of water she's downing.

"Wanna throw some hands?" Sphene says, tightening her ponytail.

"Just did," I say, motioning to Alessandra, my longtime best friend. She sets her water bottle down and leans against the wall next to my dad, her short blonde hair a tousled mess atop her head.

"You wanna… have a sword fight?" she asks, turning around and tapping the hilt of a sword with a carefully painted fingernail. She's wearing black leggings that hug her curves perfectly and a tight fitting pink and white athletic shirt with long sleeves. I flash her a cocky grin when she catches me staring and she returns it flirtatiously. I move closer to her and put a hand on a particularly pretty sword. I pull it out of its sheath and admire it, turning it around in my hand. It has gold designs on its hilt and the blade is a perfect silvery steel. I run my finger down the side to make sure it's blunt as Sphene steps up onto the platform, her sword swinging playfully in her grip.

"Ready?" my dad asks from the side. We both nod, not daring to break eye contact with each other. "Begin!"

I attack first, like always, with a lunge forward and a strong slash at Sphene. She jumps back, blocking my attack with her raised weapon. We continue on like for this a while, both already knowing how each other fights from years of training together. She ducks and blocks each of my blows while I keep pressing forward. Sweat breaks out on my forehead and I step back, taking a quick breath. Sphene uses it to her advantage and dashes forward, jabbing quickly at my stomach. I block it messly and she swivels, dealing a crippling blow to my left leg. It gives out and I fall sideways, but manage to roll and kick Sphene's legs out from under her as well. A yelp escapes her mouth and she lets go of her sword on the way down. I awkwardly get to my feet, my left leg aching slightly, and sweep her weapon to the other side of the platform with the tip of my own sword. Her green eyes widen and I flash a cocky smile at her, then bring my blunt sword down on her stomach.

"Oof," she gasps, her hands wrapping around the sword. Alessandra lets out a long whistle from the sidelines, clapping slowly. I laugh an easy laugh, and help Sphene up, who scoops up her sword and puts it neatly away on the rack.

"Well done son," my dad adds, clapping me on the back as I put my own beautiful sword away next to Sphene's. "Looks like you're finally ready for the Games."

"Finally? I've been ready for this ever since I stepped foot in this place 10 years ago," I answer, running a hand through my messy sun-bleached blond hair.

"12 years actually," my dad corrects me, chuckling.

"What? Oh, right. 12, that's what I meant," I say, only a little embarrassed.

"Who's house?" Alessandra asks, following me and Sphene out the door. I glance back to see my dad busily cleaning up and turning the lights off.

"Kian's?" Sphene suggests, her gaze shifting between Alessandra and me.

"I guess," I respond, holding the door open for both of them. The cold early morning air hits my face and I let my breath steam out in front of me as we walk, twirling into graceful spirals and then disappearing. Sphene mimics me, giggling and Alessandra rolls her eyes, trudging along beside Sphene with her hands pushing into her pockets.

It doesn't take long to get to Kian's mansion, and in a few minutes Alessandra is knocking loudly on his huge red double doors. They fling open after the 16th knock, revealing Kian's tall, lanky figure. "What do you want?" he asks indignantly.

Alessandra shrinks back, her face scrunching up. The stench of alcohol stings my nose and I cough uncomfortably. Kian glances at me and then at Alessandra and takes a swig of whatever he has today. "Really, Kian? The sun's not even up yet," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Kian burps obnoxiously in her face and shrugs. He throws the best parties, so I'd never complain about his drinking problem, but Alessandra doesn't hold back anything.

"It's Reaping Day," he says, turning around and receding into the dim lighting of his mansion. The three of us follow him to his unkempt room, empty bottles littering the floor. Alessandra starts to pick them up and toss them unceremoniously into an overflowing trash can in the corner. I stretch out on one side of his bed, Kian sitting next to me, and Sphene lounging elegantly in a large armchair on the other side of the room.

"I'm thinking of having a party today," Kian says, setting the alcohol down on a wooden nightstand. "I mean it _is_ Reaping Day and you're volunteering…" he adds, gesturing to me.

"A little jealous, but okay," I mutter. "Have fun, I guess."

"Why are _you_ jealous? You get to volunteer," Sphene says, her eyes sparkling. She's only 17, so it explains why the trainers didn't pick her to volunteer. However, she also just learned that the chosen female volunteer is the same age as her, so she's been somewhat irritated for a few days. She's been training almost as long as me, but obviously, I'm better.

"It's not exactly a party out there in the Games," Alessandra mutters, sliding down against the wall next to Sphene's chair.

Sphene scoffs. "I mean, it sure looks like one."

"Yeah, he's trained for this like his whole life. I'd be kind of excited if I were him," Kian says pointedly. "Right, Topaz?"

"Uh, yeah," I drawl, not really caring. Alessandra blinks at me but Kian and Sphene both shoot her an _I-told-you-so_ face. All four of us jump when there's a sudden pounding knock on the door.

"Are you kidding?" Kian mutters, getting up and stomping to the door.

"Hey, man!" I hear Ralph say. "You wouldn't believe what happened. You know that party that Jenna Kay threw last night? Yeah, I know, I didn't think it'd be that great either. Anyway, Paloma Opal was there, dude. Yeah, and - Oh hey, guys, didn't know you'd be here - she looked like really lonely right? And so I was like 'Aye, what's wrong?' and she was like, 'My boyfriend dumped me, wanna bang?' and I was like, 'Sure, babe," and it was _hot_ , dudes."

Alessandra snorts and Kian stares at Ralph as he plops down in Kian's spot next to me. "Bro. You messed up. She's gonna be looking for commitment now," Kian says. I chuckle quietly.

"What? Nah…" Ralph says, looking at the rest of us for help. Sphene and I shrug and Alessandra's face lights up in laughter. "Well, shit," he mutters. "I guess I'll just ignore her then."

"Great idea," I say, flashing a thumbs up at him.

Kian saunters over to a small window behind Sphene and flings open the curtains, letting a few early rays of sun break through the thin layer of dust on his window. "Hey, Topaz, shouldn't you be like, spending time with your family?" Alessandra says.

"He'll have plenty of time for that when he comes back," Sphene says, untying her long brown hair and letting it bounce gracefully around her shoulders.

"I dunno, I think I should go," I say.

"See?" Alessandra says, laughing quietly. Sphene grumbles quietly to herself, but doesn't say anything.

"Aight, see you at the reapings," Ralph says, nodding at me. I return it and stroll out of the sprawling mansion, running a hand through my short hair.

"Wait!" Sphene calls from behind me after a few minutes of walking quietly by myself. I lazily turn around to see her jogging to catch up with me. "I'm not gonna see you in a _long_ time, Topy, you sure you don't wanna…" she trails off, smirking up at me.

"Uh, sure," I say, never one to reject an offer from Sphene(or any pretty girl for that matter). "Wait no, the reapings are going to start soon," I add.

"Oh, I guess you're right," she says, skipping ahead of me.

"Wait, not what I meant," I start, but give up, not really caring enough to explain.

"You coming?" she asks, turning around at the corner of the street. I swagger over to her and casually throw an arm around her shoulder. Sphene and I aren't technically dating, we're more like friends with benefits I guess.

...

"I'm home," I yell as soon as I open the doors to my house. Not as big as Kian's mansion, but we're getting there. It used to be smaller when my mom was still married to my dad, but then they divorced when I was four. My mom cheated on my dad with my now step-father Jasper and when the twins were born, my dad left. Money's been slowly getting better.

"Hey, Topaz," my half-sister Sylvia says, stomping down the stairs in clean white jeans and a blouse. Her striking red hair is pulled back into a braided bun at the back of her head. Her blue eyes, the same ocean blue as mine, narrow when she sees Sphene. Sphene waves obliviously. "You brought your side hoe," Sylvia says, fixing me with a glare. She looks Sphene up and down, makes an annoyed face, and then retreats into the kitchen.

"I don't think she likes me," Sphene says, pouting.

"I don't think so either," I answer, wondering why Sylvia has such a problem with her. "You want something to eat?" I ask. She shrugs and I take that as a yes, so we follow Sylvia into the kitchen.

"Hey," the other twin, Goldie, says through a mouthful of cereal.

I give her a casual sup-nod in response and then fling open a cupboard. "Aight, we got cereal, bread, an-" Sphene interrupts me, pointing to a jar of peanut butter.

"You wanna make me a sandwich?"

"Uh, if you want it, you're gonna have to make it yourself," I answer, closing the cupboard and sitting down across the table from Goldie. Sphene frowns but starts to put her breakfast together. Meanwhile, Sylvia quietly wolfs down apple slices, staring out a window above the sink.

"I don't get how you can _want_ to go into the Games," Goldie says, swallowing a mouthful and waving her dripping spoon around while she talks. "I mean it's all dirty and gross. Like, you wear the same pair of underwear for _days._ And what about deodorant? Like, everyone must _stink_. Ew." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "It takes a lot of effort to look this gorgeous," she says arrogantly, swishing her brunette locks around.

"I guess I'm just not devoted to looks," I lie. Of course I love looking nice, and it's obvious.

"How'd you get that?" Sphene asks suddenly, pulling up a chair next to me and gesturing to Goldie's left arm currently in a sling. I take a slice of her sandwich and bite into it, much to her annoyance.

Goldie glares over at Sylvia. "I got in a fight," she answers bluntly. Sylvia stifles a laugh, spitting out a few chewed-up chunks of apple into the sink.

"Ready for the reapings, kids?" my step-dad, Jasper, calls from the bottom of the stairs.

"Shit, I need to get changed," I say, standing up and lazily sauntering to the stairs.

"Topaz, hurry up, we don't have all day. Do you even want to volunteer?" Jasper says, moving aside so I can get past.

"Sorry, you guys can go, I'll catch up," I say, then hop up the stairs and start going through clothes in my closet. I slip on somewhat skinny black jeans and a tight fitting grey T-shirt. I glance around my room, decide against taking a token(there'd be no point, I'll be back here in a couple of weeks at the most), and stomp back downstairs to where Sphene is still waiting patiently at the table.

"Ready?" she asks. I nod, giving her my usual lazy smile. I throw on a leather jacket hanging by the door and slip on my combat boots, then follow her to the square as she skips along in front of me.

It takes longer than I thought it would to reach the square, but eventually we do. Kian and Ralph are nowhere to be seen, but Sphene quickly spots Alessandra and ditches me to go join her after her finger is pricked. I get my blood drawn and then take my place at the front of the crowd, nearest to the stage.

"Hey," I hear Kian's familiar drawl from behind me and turn around. Ralph stands next to him, hopping back and forth on his feet.

"Ready to volunteer?" Ralph asks, smiling excitedly.

"Yeah, I guess," I say, putting my hands in my jean pockets and leaning back, relaxed.

"Shut up, it's about to start," Kian says, glancing up at the stage. Ralph and I both turn to watch Ambrosia talk nervously about the usual video and how happy she is to be the new escort for District One. I yawn, zoning out until she pulls out a name from the girls' bowl.

"Paloma Opal," she says, her voice shaking. I hear Ralph snort beside me, and a few curious faces turn to look at us. Paloma, taking her five seconds of fame in stride, walks out and gracefully floats down the aisle, a prim smile gracing her perfect features. She reaches the stairs and exchanges a puzzled look with the escort. "Um, any v-volunteers?" Ambrosia asks. Paloma pauses and looks around at the crowd, trying to find Crystal Silverstone, the selected volunteer.

"I volunteer!" a shrill voice echoes desperately around the square. Ralph exchanges a glance with me and I peer around the turned faces to see Crystal make her way out of the crowd and stride towards the stage, flashing an intimidating grin at the stage, her gaze not wavering from straight ahead of her. Paloma walks back, the same tight smile on her face, but all the attention is on District One's female volunteer. She's pretty tall and has long brown hair framing her face. She reaches the microphone and her bold green eyes pierce the crowd. A smattering of freckles litter her face. She's a simple kind of pretty. Not my usual type, but I'd probably hit that if it weren't for the Games. Ralph whistles next to me and I smirk.

"And what's your name, dear?" Ambrosia Clyde asks, smiling.

"Crystal Silverstone," she answers, although most people in the district already know her. I've seen her train and I could easily beat her. The Games are going to be a breeze for me. I almost wish I had more competition, but I guess I'm not here for the competition. That's too much effort.

"Well, that's just lovely!" Ambrosia pauses to laugh nervously again and I wonder if she can tell how annoying it is. "Now for our male tribute!" She picks a slip out of the bowl and starts to read it, but I interrupt her.

"I volunteer!" I confidently shout. I casually step out into the aisle and swagger to the stage, taking my place next to Crystal. I look her up and down, trying to be obvious for the cameras. Ambrosia asks us to shake hands and I wink as I grip her slim hand. Her cheeks turn red and my lazy smile gets wider in satisfaction. These Games _are_ going to be a party.

 ** _A/N:_** _so, i totally scrapped that thing about two districts in one, that seemed like a lot once i actually started writing, lol. anyway, there's only one spot left as of now: the district nine male. thank you so much for all the tribute submissions! updates will be *hopefully* once every week unless i have an_ _unusually relaxed week then i might update sooner, but idk man. i'm so happy that we started on the actual story, my dudes. i'm really sorry if i didn't write your tribute well, it turns out it's a lot harder to write other people's characters than your own haha. anyway, thank you to iridescenteverdeen for Topaz Trinity and Mewkitcat for Crystal Silverstone._

 _don't forget to leave a review! who do you like more? how far do you think these two will get in the Games?_

 _-knifey_

 _shower thought of the day: babies are the biggest STD_


	4. Chapter II - Everybody Wants To Be Famou

_**Chapter II - Everybody Wants To Be Famous**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District Two**_

 _ **D2M16 - Nolan Bedford**_

I wake up around 6:00am, my stomach churning. I'm not an idiot, I know how important today is. It's been important to me for years, since before I was even old enough to attend the reapings. But not in the 'oh man can I do it?' kind of importance, more like 'the start of my new life' kind of way. I started training when I was eight, and already knew I would grow up and become a victor. I'm sure the trainers thought so as well, even if I did get in trouble a lot. Even if I messed around with the batons when I was younger. Even if I got hurt more times than not. Okay, thinking back, maybe the trainers weren't expecting much from me. But now here I am, waking up bright and early on the morning of my fifth Reaping Day, ready to volunteer. I fold my arms behind me and smirk at the ceiling. A future victor deserves a little bit of rest.

"Nolan!" my sister, Alana screeches from across the hallway. My relaxed expression turns sour and I sit up as my bedroom door swings open, slamming into the wall.

"What?!" I scream back at her.

"Where. Is. My necklace?" she huffs, her silky black hair flying around her face.

"Why the _fuck_ would I need a necklace?" I answer, stretching my back.

"I dunno, maybe you just like stealing things from me! Like, huh, maybe volunteering?" she says sarcastically, fixing me with eyes as harsh and brown as my own.

"Woah, hey, _I_ didn't steal your chance of volunteering. You let that girl volunteer instead of you!" I say defensively, getting out of bed and heading to the door. She huffs, her nostrils flaring, and slams my door shut before I can get another word in. It's just like her to find anything to get mad at me for. Especially volunteering. I feel kind of bad for her, but not _that_ bad. If she couldn't beat a girl to the stage a few years ago, it wasn't anyone's fault but hers. Ever since that year, the trainers at the Academy have more strictly enforced the 'rule' that chosen tributes are the only ones allowed to volunteer for anyone. They didn't give Alana a second chance, even though she's still of reaping age. At least I don't have to worry about that happening to me.

"Nolan, get out of bed," my father says, cracking open the door.

"What?" I say bluntly.

"Get dressed, we're leaving soon." He turns and walks down the stairs, leaving my bedroom door open. I sigh and fling myself out of bed, slamming the door closed.

"Honey, don't slam doors," I hear my mother yell from her bedroom at the end of the hall. I roll my eyes and choose to ignore her, instead pulling out wrinkled clothes from my closet. Dissatisfied with my choices, I throw open my door and storm through the hallway.

"Mom!" I shout, drawing out the word.

"What is it honey," she asks when I find her carefully drawing on eyeliner in front of her mirror.

"I need something nice to wear," I mutter.

"Why don't you try one of your dad's things?" she asks, glancing up at me and then back at the mirror.

"Kay," I say, shoving my hands in my pajama pockets and walking over to the large closet of boring grey clothes. Eventually I find an okay-looking black tuxedo and bring it back to my own room where I slip it on.

"Looking nice," I say, winking at myself in a mirror on my desk. "My name is Nolan Bedford, and I'm going to be District Two's next victor," I say, practicing what I'm going to say once I volunteer. I crack a confident grin at myself, fidgeting with my bowtie so that it's straight.

"You're pretty dressed up," someone says from behind me. I jump, turning around to see my 11 year old sister, Valda.

"It's the reapings," I say, confused.

"Uh, yeah. You're a little dressed up for the reapings."

"Well, if I'm going to be on live TV, then I want to look nice. Plus, the Capitolites will know I'm rich and they'll like me more," I add, smirking. Capitolites are easy to figure out, just like adults. For adults, you just suck up to them and for Capitolites it's nearly the same, you just act rich and entitled.

"Ohhh, right. I forgot you were volunteering," Valda says, tossing her hair. "I guess that's pretty cool," she adds.

"Uh, wha- I mean… _I guess?_ " I stammer, feeling a little underappreciated. Valda shrugs in response. "Haven't you seen the Games? Those victors become famous for, like, eternity. It'll be like living forever."

"That's cool," Valda says, shrugging again. I sigh, exasperated, and throw my hands into the air. "Anyway. Dad wanted me to tell you and Mom to hurry up." I glance at the clock by my bed, reading 6:21am.

"Can't he chill? The reapings don't start until 7:30," I say.

Valda shrugs and makes a slightly apologetic face. "The truck broke down, we have to walk."

"I'm not gonna say I wasn't expecting that," I mutter, chewing on the inside of my mouth. Our truck's been around for ages and isn't exactly the prettiest. Not even the richest families in One could afford cars like what they have in the Capitol. The only reason we have ours is to transport the stone our district digs up.

"Same. I left you half a Poptart," Valda says, crossing her arms. I'm about to say thanks when I notice a shiny golden chain dangling around her neck.

"Valda, is that Alana's?" I ask, my brows furrowing together. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

"Uh, yeah, it is. Why?"

"Alana!" I yell. "Valda stole your necklace!" Valda's expression is priceless as she glares furiously at me. For once she's upset at something.

"Nolan!" she exclaims as Alana's stomping footsteps grow louder and louder. I flash her a sarcastically apologetic look and then saunter out the door and downstairs, letting my two sisters work it out by themselves.

"You look nice," my mom says when I get downstairs to see her and Dad sitting idly at the table.

"Is that mine?" my dad asks.

"Uh, yeah." He grumbles to himself but doesn't say anything else. I plop down next to him and wolf down what Valda left for me while my mother goes on about how proud she is.

"We didn't know you'd be so successful, Nolan. We thought it was just a phase, didn't we Thor?" she asks, patting Dad on the back. He mutters something that sounds like 'sure' but I can't be positive.

I chuckle. "Well, here I am," I say, gesturing to myself with one hand.

"And I'm just so proud of how far you've come, dear. We know you can win." She smiles warmly at me and I shrug, channeling my best Valda.

"Cool, thanks Mom," I say, picking up my plate and washing it off. Valda suddenly scurries into the room, closely followed by an angry Alana clipping her necklace behind her own neck.

"Are we all ready to go?" my Dad asks, standing up from his spot at the table. A tingle of excitement flows like a wave through my body and I grin.

"Hell yeah, let's go," I say.

...

The surprisingly warm morning air hugs me as I step forward in line to get my finger pricked by the Peacekeeper. He grabs my wrist roughly and takes my blood. _This would have been me if I hadn't started training_ , I think. If I hadn't been so interested in the Games, I'd probably be training to be a Peacekeeper. For obvious reasons, I don't think I'd enjoy digging for stupid rocks as much as I'd enjoy beating the crap out of some rule-breakers. Even if I am one, myself.

"Nolan! Wait!" I hear my mother's desperate shout from the crowd of parents and family in the back of the square. I turn and make my way through everyone to get to her even though I really just want to stand in my place and wait for the Escort to call some name.

"What is it?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"I forgot to ask if you wanted a token. I could give you my bracelet," she says, trying to untie the band of leather around her wrist. I shake my head, narrowing my eyes.

"Token's are for weaklings," I state, as if it's obvious. "What do you think people are going to think of me if I show up wearing a token?"

Mom freezes, then drops her hands. "I suppose so," she says. It looks like she's about to say something else but then Nijali Kreed strolls across the stage, her obnoxious silver shoes blinding me with every step.

"Hello, hello! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" she says into the mic, practically kissing it. I flash a confident smile at Mom and then dash back into the crowd after she wishes me good luck. Some stragglers are still hurrying to their spots, so I'm only a bit out of place as I jog stiffly down the aisle and into the 16 year old section. A few kids stare at me and I clear my throat uncomfortably. I'm a sucker for attention, just not the bad kind it seems like I'm getting now.

"I always love District Two," Nijali continues excitedly. "You never fail to make me proud of Panem." She smiles brightly and a few people whistle or clap. I feel the same wave of excitement course through me again. She talks more about our 'lovely district' and then shows the normal video, standing idly by and smiling. After it ends, everyone applauds loudly and she holds her hand to her chest as if she's moved.

"Now, let's get started!" she says, her voice crisp in the morning air. She puts a small unnaturally skinny hand into the glass bowl and pulls out a cream-colored slip of folded paper. "Heather Hecate," she reads happily, knowing there's going to be a volunteer.

"I volunteer!" a confident voice sounds from the 18 year old girls. Kalidia Hadron, a girl I've seen at the Academy, steps forward purposefully. She's not the chosen volunteer, but maybe there's been a change of plans, seeing as none of the trainers standing in the back seem very surprised. Her long brown hair flows behind her in a ponytail as she swiftly makes her way to the stage.

"A volunteer? Oh, how exciting!" Nijali says, gasping comically. "And what is your name?"

"Kalidia. Kalidia Hadron," she says, smirking at the crowd. I shouldn't underestimate her.

"Oh, that's such a beautiful name!" Nijali says, flashing a ditzy smile at the cameras and then floating over to the male's bowl. I tense as she takes a piece of paper off of the top. "Lucas O-"

"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell, pushing people out of the way to get the isle. Nijali looks somewhat surprised, which is unusual for her, but I ignore it.

"Aren't you a little young to be volunteering?" she asks once I reach the stage. She giggles at the crowd and most of them laugh uncomfortably. Most of them probably don't have confidence in me.

I chuckle. "I'd like to think age doesn't matter as much as skill, ma'am," I say, giving her a warm, confident smile.

"Well that's just _exciting_! I cannot _wait_ to see you in the arena!" she says confidently. "Why don't you tell your district your name?"

"My name is Nolan Bedford, and I'm going to be District Two's next victor," I say to the crowd, just as I'd practiced. I run a pale hand through my black spiky hair and absorb the applause from the crowd. I glance over at Kalidia to see her frightening bright blue eyes fixed on me, her face expressionless. She flashes me a sadistically sweet smile and I suppress a shiver. Maybe I should have volunteered next year or something.

 _ **D2F18 - Kalidia Hadron**_

Last month Jules Monroe showed up to training with her arm in a sling, a hot pink cast matching perfectly with her just as colorful hair. She'd had to lie to the head trainer that she had slipped while taking shower. I remember the satisfying crunch of bone when I swung a sledgehammer into her perfect arm. Right now, Harmoni Toire should throwing up in her sparkling white bathroom, which would explain why I was called to the Academy so early on Reaping Day. It was just too easy to give her one of those stupid Capitol pills at the pre-Games party last night. I smile maliciously to myself, thinking of how well I've orchestrated this.

"Kalidia Hadron?" I look up from where I sit in a blue velvet chair in the waiting room of the Academy office to see a white-clad woman with pin straight dark brown hair much like mine, and piercing black eyes.

"That's me," I say, offering her an oblivious smile.

"Lilly Green wants to speak with you."

 _Well, yeah, obviously_ , I think to myself, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I follow the woman into Ms. Green's office, where she sits behind a dark cherry wood table, her hands folded over a clipboard. I sit down silently in the large armchair on the other side of the desk.

"Ms. Hadron," Lilly Green starts, glancing quickly at the clipboard. I risk a glance and see a list of names on it, the top one being Jules Monroe, the next one being Harmoni Toire, and the third one being Kalidia Hadron. _My name._ Jules Monroe and Harmoni Toire have angry dark lines through them, and I smile subtly to myself. "It's come to our attention that Harmoni Toire will not be able to participate in this year's Games." She pauses to sigh and then fixes her tired grey eyes on me. "I called you here to ask if you'd be willing to take her place as District Two's female volunteer."

 _Wide eyes._ I widen my eyes just the slightest to show shock. _A small gasp. Put your hand on your chest._ "Me?" I ask, feigning surprise and gratitude. "Of course! It'd be an honor." Lilly flinches but manages to plaster a painfully fake smile on her pale face.

"That's wonderful. Are you familiar with the male volunteer?" Ms. Green asks.

"Nolan? I've heard of him, but I don't think we've ever talked or anything," I answer. I can feel the other woman's harsh gaze on the back of my head and I make a point to sit up straighter, my hands folded primly in my lap.

"Hm. That doesn't matter much, I suppose. It'd be nice if you knew his fighting style well, but I'm sure you can make do." She smiles again, and I return it. I would tell her that it doesn't matter if I know him or not, that I make a note of everyone's fighting style if they pose a threat, but I want to talk to Lilly Green as little as possible.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" I ask politely. I press my hands tighter together so that my knuckles go white.

"I don't believe so. You're dismissed," she says, glancing up at the woman behind me. I stand up slowly and walk out the door of the office.

The training area of the Academy is hauntingly empty save for my older brother Samuel throwing sharp jabs at one of the several hanging punching bags. He sees me out of the corner of his eye and stops, holding the bag steady. "Ready to go, Kali?" he says. I nod, a quiet smile spreading over my face.

"So what'd she tell you?" he asks when we're out the door and briskly walking back to our house nestled in the depths of suburbia.

"Well. I'll put it this way. You won't be seeing me for a few weeks," I say, smirking at the air in front of me. Samuel turns to look at me, and his stride falters.

"Wait, what? I thought you- What about Harmoni?" I put my pointer finger to my lips, my eyes sparkling mischievously. "Damn. That's cold, Kali," he says, chuckling. "I'm going to be siblings with a victor," he breathes. "Dude, you're going to be so rich."

I let him talk the whole way back home, half paying attention, half imaging the feeling of actually _killing_ someone. The blood is one thing, but the _fear…_ Of course, I enjoy the thrill of the Games, like any other Career, but really all I want is that relaxed life of fame and riches. I can almost feel myself melting into a plush blue recliner, kicking my feet up, and watching those stupid Capitol shows. I'm so caught up in my daydream that I almost miss the walkway to our house.

I push open the smoothly painted red wooden door and am instantly hit with the overpowering smell of burnt pancakes. "Where have you been?" my dad asks casually when I step through the door.

"She's going to volunteer!" Samuel says from behind me, closing the door. I turn to glare at him and he offers me an oblivious goofy smile.

"Well, that's… news," Dad says, frozen above the burning pancakes.

"Oh, is that true? We're so proud of you, Kalidia, we knew you could do it!" my mom says, gliding down the hallway towards us. She wrinkles her nose when she sees my dad hovering over the stove. "What are you doing, dear?" she asks, sighing. I glance back at Samuel who shrugs and moves forward to eat one of the pancakes.

"I'm making breakfast," Dad says, waving a spatula around.

"By the smell of it, not well," Mom says, causing a frown to blossom on Dad's face. I grind my back teeth together, deciding whether to eat first or get dressed. "I left something cute for you on your bed," Mom whispers to me as she passes by, her right hand gliding over my shoulder. I don't bother to thank her, instead strolling to my room and finding a simple light blue dress lying across my sheets. I pout, putting my hands on my hips. I was expecting something more extravagant for my last and most special reapings, but I guess this will do. After all, how would Mom know that I'd be the volunteer?

I quickly peel off the black leggings and maroon hoodie I'd thrown on for my visit to the Academy and pull on the dress, struggling through the sleeves and tight waist. I pull my long brown hair back into a high ponytail, pinning the straggling hairs back with a small steel hair pin.

The second I step out my room, Samuel throws a pancake at me and I catch it easily, my reflexes having been sharpened to perfection over the years. "Ready?" he asks.

"Sure," I say, tearing a piece off the pancake and shoving it into my mouth. It tastes dry and kind of crunchy, but I don't complain. There's going to be an infinite amount of good food for me on the train to the Capitol. I can already _taste_ it.

I hop through the front door, chewing determinedly on what's left of my pancake. Samuel keeps blabbing about how much he misses the reapings and how he's so happy I'm going to be famous. I mostly ignore him, humming in agreement every now and then to keep him satisfied.

Our suburbs are on the outskirts of the inner ring of mansions that surround District Two's main square, where the reapings are always held. It's not much of a walk, but I'm still obviously jealous of the mansion families. It's not a coincidence that most of the volunteers come from that ring. They're rich, pretty, and have powerful parents. It's not like we're poor, in fact we're considered wealthy according to those gross districts like 3 and 12. I just wish I could live that relaxed life that riches get you. Which is why I'm so determined to win the Games.

"See you later, Kali," Samuel says, putting a strong hand on my shoulder. "Can't wait to see you up there," he says, glancing at the dark stage that looms ahead of us, seemingly out of nowhere. My dad wishes me good luck and my mom nods in agreement, and then I walk away to the line of teenagers waiting to get their blood drawn.

I tap my foot impatiently, watching the numerous District Two victors get in their assigned seats. The mayor finally appears out of the double doors leading to the Justice Building, and soon after, the escort comes on stage. I realize the line has moved forward right when the Peacekeepers chirps her annoying line: "Next."

I stick my hand out, watching as she takes the blood. I pull my finger back and then follow the trail of girls filing into the different sections. I stroll to the front of the crowd, noticing Harmoni's friend group milling about in distress about their missing friend. I stare, observing them for a while. Some things have to be done to ensure I get what I want. After all, it doesn't matter what I do, it matters what I get. And I'm not afraid to hurt a few people to get what I want.

"Hello, hello!" Nijali says, her crisp voice echoing like a bird's call from the microphone. She goes on and on about how amazing our district is, and then clicks a button and the annual video plays on a bare wall of the Justice Building. "Now, let's get started," she chirps happily. I watch with anticipation as she delicately pulls a tiny piece of paper out of the small glass bowl of the District Two girls. I decide to let her at least get the full name out before volunteering, contrary to what usual Careers _rudely_ do. "Heather Hecate!" she yells confidently into the crowd. Her eyes waver on the 18 year olds section, trying to single out the chosen volunteer. I smirk to myself, then clear my throat quietly so a few girls surrounding me turn around to look.

"I volunteer!" I shout confidently, stepping out of the crowd. Most people are quiet, not familiar with the ranks of the Academy, but some kids who I've seen train murmur to themselves and look back at the trainers to make sure this is right. I laugh a quiet, breathy laugh to myself and then purposefully walk forward, my baby blue dress swishing out behind me and my ponytail swinging with every step. Nijali says something but I don't pay attention to her until I'm bounding quickly up the stairs, my shoes hitting the steps in rhythm with my heartbeat.

"And what is your name?" she says when I reach my spot beside her. She doesn't even look at me, and I feel my smirk start to turn slightly sour, but I save it before anything slips.

"Kalidia," I say. "Kalidia Hadron."

 _ **A/N:**_ _hey guys, it's me again. it's been a p bad day :I i changed the chapter names cause i was thinking wow imma be so deep and creative and come up with my own chapter names and uh.. anyway i'm making the chapter names songs now cause that's pretty cool, ig. i also rlly like music. like more than i like people(which isn't saying much haha) and i can't even read sheet music lmao. you can find the playlist for this SYOT on my profile and i'll update the list as i update the story. whelp anyway, here's district two! thank you to Nemris for Kalidia Hadron and Foxfaceisthebest for Nolan Bedford. don't forget to tell me what you think, i really love hearing from you guys. :)_

 _\- knifey_

 _shower thought of the day: (from Mewkitcat) what if poisonous things are actually things everyone is severely allergic to?_

 _ALSO the district nine male is still open_ _:)_


	5. Chapter III - The World Is Ugly

_**Chapter III - The World Is Ugly**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District Three**_

 _ **D3F15 - Charlotte Bowman**_

The streets of District Three are unusually empty this morning as I hurry through them. But, of course, it's not a usual day. It's Reaping Day. I used to be terrified of this day, realizing more than most that death comes at any moment, but now I'd like to think that I'm as scared of it as any normal 15 year old from District Three. "Hey, girlie," I hear a rusty voice croak from the depths of a dark alley to my right. I glance that way and see a hunched over figure shift in the darkness. Light hits the person's face and reveals the wrinkles and greying skin of a dying man. I cringe and hurry my pace, ignoring the old man's calls.

Abandoned newspapers and loose pieces of trash float around my ankles as I reach the entrance to Zach's house. My knuckles hit the old wood door quietly, but it swings open almost instantly, revealing my friend standing in the doorway, an ominous ray of light dancing over one side of his face and peeking into the dark hallway of his house.

"Char," he breathes, obvious relief playing out across his face. "Do you have it?" he asks, eyeing my closed fist.

"Uh, yeah," I answer quietly, holding out my scarred hand. Two off-white pills lay in my palm, and Zach wastes no time in scooping them up and dashing into his house. He turns around halfway through the hall and beckons me over, then turns the corner, disappearing. I swallow nervously and slowly pad into the ramshackle house, gently closing the door behind me. The hallway grows dark, save for a few dusty windows filtering in light the color of ancient parchment.

Cries of pain echo from a room down the hall and to the left, where Zach turned into. I gulp and follow the sounds. I've never been able to stomach seeing people in pain. Too many bad memories. "Here," Zach says gently to his mom as I enter the room. The middle-aged woman is laying on a bed near one end of the room while Zach's little sister is standing at the foot of the bed, clutching a stuffed monkey, her blue eyes wide and scared. Zach kneels beside the bed, his hand outstretched to his mom. I cautiously walk over to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He flinches slightly, but relaxes when he looks up and sees my sun-tanned face.

"She'll be fine," I say, looking at her disfigured hand. She'd gotten it stuck in a machine about a day ago at the factory she used to work at. Zach, Joline, and I have been scrounging for painkillers to help her until she's healed. I bite my lip, worried. She won't be able to work again.

"Zach?" she whispers finally, her head tilting to look at him. He smiles, relieved, and shows her the pills. I pull my hand away from his shoulder and push it deep into the pockets of my ripped jeans.

"We got you painkillers," Zach says. His mom smiles gratefully and swallows the two pills with the help of a glass water beside her. She starts to talk to him, her face scrunching into expressions of pain every now and then when she tries to move her hand. I wince and slowly edge out of the room, deciding to give Zach and his mother and sister some space.

I sit outside on his ancient porch, watching a few early risers walk through the lonely streets. A young girl stumbles past a surprisingly old couple and turns her dirt-streaked face towards me. She seems to not only look at me, but look _through_ me. I fidget nervously and run the tips of my fingers against one another. The little girl looks at me for a few seconds more and then runs off, past an alleyway with an orange flickering glow on the walls. It takes me a while to realize what it is, and by then I wish I hadn't. It's a stupid fear, a stupid weakness, but I can't help it. My eyes are locked on the flames as a short woman with oily hair warms her gloved hands over the fire. A whimpering sound escapes my throat, as I find myself unable to look away.

"Char," someone says from my left. I jump to my feet, startled, only to see Zach leaning out from his doorway. He turns to look at what I was watching and he bites the corner of his bottom lip, his eyebrows pushing together. "You okay?" he asks, looking back at me with an obviously paler complexion then before. I nod, rubbing my scarred forearm behind my back. Zach eyes me suspiciously but doesn't say anything. "I'm going to stay and help my mom to the Reapings," he says, glancing back inside. I nod again, understanding, but not knowing what to say. ' _Ok' seems too simple. 'Hope she feels better' seems somehow detached. It doesn't feel like the right thing to say._ I end up not saying anything, just watching as he turns and heads back into his house.

I end up trudging back to my own home where I find my twin brother, Bix, lounging in an ancient wooden chair on our porch. His brown eyes light up when he sees me approaching, and he sits up straighter. "There you are!" he says happily.

"Hi," I say, smiling shyly.

"Where have you been?" Bix asks, blocking the entrance to our house. He's dressed in the only pair of clean jeans he has and a black T-shirt.

"I was with Zach," I say. "What time is it?"

"Your _boyfriend_?" Bix asks, rolling his eyes.

"He's not my boyfriend," I mutter defensively.

"Uh huh," Bix says, crossing his arms.

"What time is it?" I ask again.

"Uh, I dunno," he answers, shrugging. I bite the inside of my lip, looking around. A few more people are making their way down the street, all headed in the same direction with the same sense of urgency and nervousness. I look back at Bix and smile, suddenly realizing not for the first time how lucky I am to still have him here. "You good, Charlotte?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Yeah," I say. "I have to get ready," I add hurriedly, stepping forwards. Bix moves aside and follows me into the house.

"Don't forget breakfast!" I hear my mom yell at me from the kitchen as I skid through the house. I reach the room I share with Bix and start to look for something nice to wear. My eyes settle on a simple grey dress folded neatly on a shelf in my closet. I don't believe I've ever worn it. _Now's as good a day as any,_ I think to myself.

I pull off my dirty white sweatshirt and peel off my ripped jeans, then aggressively pull the dress over my head and straighten it over the rest of my body. I turn, admiring myself in a cracked old mirror(probably the only one in the house). The dress hugs my body and flares out at the waist, making my figure look better than it actually is. Unfortunately, it doesn't take much attention away from my scarred face, arms, and legs. I swallow nervously. I never like Reaping Day. Too many things always catch me off guard. I feel my hands begin to collect sweat and I fold them behind my back, closing my eyes. I imagine for a minute that I'm not a girl in Panem. That I live in a different world where the Hunger Games don't exist and nothing bad ever happens.

"Let's _go_ ," I hear Bix shout from down the hall. My brown eyes snap open and I take a few deep breaths, watching my chest rise and fall evenly in the mirror. "Charlotte, come on!" Bix says, closer this time. I quickly pull my curly brown hair into a messy bun with a few strands sticking out of it at odd angles.

"Coming!" I yell back, finding a pair of black shoes by the door to our room. I pull the right shoe on while awkwardly hopping into the kitchen. My mom shoves a piece of bread into my free hand and I take it, almost losing my balance, but recovering at the last minute. I stick the piece of hard, stale bread into my mouth and put on my other shoe, my mouth watering.

"Eat it on the way," my dad says, holding the door open for me. Bix and Mom wait expectantly in front of our house. I stumble clumsily out the door and follow slowly behind Mom and Dad, Bix keeping pace beside me.

The town square isn't very far from my house, so it doesn't take long until we start to see the crowd of people. Mom and Dad turn to us, their faces filled with feelings that would take an eternity to describe in words. So instead, they put comforting hands on our shoulders, wish us good luck, and are whisked away with the other adults and young children to the back of the square, behind the red velvet rope. I swallow nervously for about the fifth time that morning and walk towards the line of teenagers checking in. My legs feel like they're about to buckle and I turn around every few seconds to make sure nothing is out of the ordinary.

"You're safe, Charlotte," Bix reminds me. I turn to look at him and see kindness in his warm eyes. He wouldn't understand, but I'm glad he tries.

"Next," the Peacekeeper woman orders angrily. I turn sharply and hold out my hand. Her head tilts just the slightest when she sees my scarred skin, but she doesn't say anything or do anything else out of the ordinary, just pricks my finger and scans my blood. "Next," she says again, once she's satisfied. Bix steps up and I move aside. He waves goodbye to me with his free hand, so I take it as my cue and start to walk towards the 15 year old girls section. Peacekeepers litter the aisle, helping lost kids to their designated areas. The few victors that District Three has are lined up on fold-out seats on the stage. They all sit perfectly uniform with perfectly ironed outfits. The mayor hustles up the concrete steps at the front of the stage and plops down into his seat.

"Char!" I turn sharply, surprised to see Joline approaching me. She sidles up next to me, smiling her usual happy smile. Her face is clean aside from the usual acne spots and freckles, but there are no scars. I've been jealous of her before, but not for her appearance. I guess I'm jealous of her luck.

"Hey Joline," I say quietly. We talk casually about regular friend things as if we're not about to take part in a death lottery. I start to feel a sickening feeling settle in my stomach and rise to my throat, threatening to choke me. So of course, I'm oddly glad when District Three's escort, Verdane Dunes, appears onstage seemingly out of nowhere, his high heels clicking ominously.

"Hello, District Three," he says, his 'S's drawn out like a snake. I shiver uncomfortably. "I'm so glad to be here representing you," he adds, his lips parting to reveal two perfect rows of serrated teeth, much like those of the famous Enobaria. He gazes over the crowd for a half second and then steps aside, pressing a button on a remote he's holding. I watch as dark images of the past rebellion and the Dark Days appear and disappear on the large screen, then happy, bright pictures of present-day Panem following shortly after. I wonder for a minute where exactly they got the pictures, considering the Panem I know looks nothing like how they're depicting it.

"Wasn't that just… _nice_?" Verdane says, giving a tight-lipped smile. He's almost more terrifying than the stereotypical Career. "Now, my dears… shall we select our female tribute?" Without waiting for an answer of any sort, he glides over to the immense glass bowl containing the names of every eligible girl in the district. I don't know if I expect it to make a difference, but I find myself hoping it's neither Joline or me. _Please_. I watch intensely as he dips a thin hand into the pile of folded papers, finally selecting one and delicately pulling it out. He wastes no time unfolding it and reading out the name.

"Charlotte Bowman," he says, his hazel snake-like eyes glued to the paper hungrily. I stiffen, suddenly realizing that he called my name. _My name. My name._ I start to shake slightly and I notice Joline looking at me with horror. _My name. That's my name._ I realize I need to start heading towards the stage unless I want Peacekeepers to ungracefully pull me there. I swallow one more time and step out into the aisle, my stomach flipping over and over again. Three Peacekeepers flank me as I make my way over to Verdane who looks down on me as if he's a falcon and I'm an exposed mouse. _Exposed._ I feel so exposed. I turn and look at the Peacekeepers, pausing slightly. Maybe I could make it if I tried running away. People have done it before. _No_ , I realize. _People have_ tried _._ The two Peacekeepers on my left and right snatch my arms and almost drag me towards the stage. I yelp in surprise and try to yank my arms out of their grasp to no avail.

"Well now, let's see who our male tribute is, shall we?" Verdane says, slithering over to the male reaping bowl after looking me over as if I'm a snack. I barely have time to hope that it isn't Bix or Zach before he read out the name. "Emrys Langley," he says, drawing out the 'S' again. I breathe a sigh of relief, then watch in horror as a little boy with curly red hair and haunting hazel eyes makes his way to the stage, trembling. I cringe as a cry of emotional pain rings out from the front of the crowd of girls, where the 18 year olds stand. A sister maybe. I feel a twinge of guilt for hoping this kind of future for anyone, but I'm still glad it wasn't my brother or friend.

Emrys trips on his way up the stairs and the Peacekeepers haul him to his feet and practically throw him forward the rest of the way. I wrap my thin arms around my body, shutting my brown eyes tight. _I'm going into the Hunger Games,_ I realize. _I'm going to die,_ my not-so-confident conscience adds.

 _ **D3M12 - Emrys Langley**_

I'm up before my sister Dawn, snoring loudly in the bed above me. I yawn once, wiggle my fingers, and then spring out of bed as if I've been up for a long while. It's about 6:30 which makes sense, as that's about the time I wake up for school and seeing as I've never missed a day, waking up late would be abnormal. I glance back at my sister. She deserves to sleep in. She's worked so hard trying to give me a factory-free life. So have my parents. The irony of it is that they've all three had to take long shifts working in those dreaded factories. One day I'll have to as well. We can lie about how Dawn and I will get good grades and good jobs and good lives, but in the end I'll have to take shifts at the factories too. I'll grow up and live a just as harsh life.

A series of excited knocks echo obtrusively around my humble home and I jump, a little startled. I glance down the short hallway to see my friend Heath cupping his hands around his face and peering through our old window. "Em? Hello? Where you at, bud?" he says, his voice muffled.

I hurriedly walk to the door and push it open, glancing at Heath. "Emrys!" he says happily, throwing open his arms out for a hug. I awkwardly accept it and then follow him back into my house. He throws open various cupboards while asking me general conversation-starting questions, all of which he knows will only get one word replies. I nervously look back down the hallway, wondering whether to ask him to be quiet or not.

"My parents are sleeping," I say quietly, following him around our kitchen. He doesn't seem to hear me.

"How you been, Em?" I answer with a hum. "Yeah, me too man, me too. Excited for our first Reapings?"

"Uh," I say.

"Joke," Heath says, turning to me with a loaf of surprisingly fresh bread in his right hand and a jar of some substance in his left. I peer curiously at the bread. _Where did he get that?_ "You look like you've never seen bread before," Heath mutters, rolling his eyes. _It was probably a Reaping Day surprise,_ I think. My parents deserve better. "Reaping Day sucks. I mean, there's a really low chance you'll get picked, what with your sister stopping you from taking tesserae and all," Heath adds, turning back around and slapping some of the spread on the bread. I'd wanted to pull my own weight by signing up for tesserae the second I was able to, but Dawn wouldn't let me. At least now I don't have as much of a chance of being reaped as I would've.

"Yeah," I say in response.

"Same. Hey, how's it going with Everly?" Heath asks, smirking at me and raising an eyebrow.

"Wha-" I start, feeling my pale cheeks turn a sudden red shade.

Heath chuckles and looks back at his sandwich, cutting it neatly in two with a dull knife. "Yeah, that's what I thought." Everly has been my crush since… I don't know… two years ago? We've had classes together for three years now and I've still never had the courage to talk to her. Not like it matters much.

I plop down on a rusty barstool and put my chin in the palms of my hands. Heath slides the sandwich to me and leans over the counter, mimicking my position. I furrow my eyebrows together looking at the sandwich and he laughs. "You ever seen a sandwich before?" he says loudly. Once again, I attempt to tell him my parents are asleep but he waves his hand as if it doesn't matter much. I guess it doesn't for him. He's basically part of my family.

"No, thank you," I say meekly.

"What? You'd reject a _gift_?" Heath says in mock hurt.

"No, it's not that," I say. "I ate last night."

"And…?"

"I'll eat after the reapings," I explain. It seems like a waste to eat so soon after I just did. Heath gives me a bewildered look and then snatches up the sandwich.

"Well if you're so busy trying to look like a twig, then I'll just eat it myself," he says. Then he eyes me warily. "But seriously. You need to eat more."

I see a small wooden pencil sitting on the old counter and I pick it up, twirling it around my fingers as Heath goes on about some drama going on in school that he doesn't realize he's already told me about. "And then Elektra was like 'Bitch,' and she straight up slapped her in the middle of the hall, _right_ in front of Mr. Taylor's room," Heath says, leaning in.

He's probably expecting me to have a surprised reaction. "Wow," I say.

"Yeah, I know dude. And-" his eyes flicker to the hallway and I turn to see my sister groggily rubbing her eyes. "Hey Dawn!" Heath says, waving excitedly.

"Heath," Dawn replies, stepping forward to walk past him and then stopping. She points questioningly at the sandwich. "We have bread?"

"Oh no. That was supposed to be a Reaping Day surprise," Mom says, showing up seemingly out of nowhere at the end of the hallway. She hurriedly walks over to the counter and pats the loaf. "Well. Surprise, I suppose!" she says, her weary voice sounding sore and raspy.

"Sorry, Mrs. Langley," Heath says, sheepish for once.

She shakes her head, obviously tired. A pang of sadness hits me in the stomach and I wish I could do something to help her. I wish I could fix all of Panem. Maybe I could? "It's fine," she says.

Heath looks awkwardly at his empty plate and I twirl the pencil around faster in my fingers. "I'm getting dressed," I state shortly. Dawn nods, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Me too," she says. "Why don't you have breakfast, Mom?" Our parents leave early and come home late so we're never sure whether they've eaten anything except the stale pieces of bread supplied to the factory workers on their ten minute lunch breaks.

Heath follows me into my room and I pull out my pre-chosen reaping clothes. "That's the best you can do?" Heath scoffs. I shrug, looking down at my ripped black pants and similar black shirt. They were the best things in my closet at the time. "I bet I could do better," he says, stepping past me to reach my closet. He slides open the door to reveal only a few pathetic options. He comments on each one of my clothes and then finally throws a tan button-down shirt at me and makes a disappointed face. "Try that," he says. "It's better than all black."

"Thanks," I say, and quickly exchange my comfortable pajama shirt with the tan one. Heath goes around my room commenting on every piece of decoration I have, which is mostly only random little items I collect from off the streets. I shimmy into the pants which are obviously a little small, revealing my thin ankles. Heath turns around and looks me up and down.

"That'll work. You excited for everyone in Panem to see you?" I almost roll my eyes at him.

"I don't think anyone's going to notice me. The cameras will be too focussed on the tributes and that scary escort," I say.

"Woah, you're talkative today!" Heath answers, holding his hands up like I'm a wild, untamed horse. I let out a small laugh and he grins cockily at me.

"The most noticeable thing about me is my hair," I add, patting my bright, curly red hair. I wish it was just a common brown like Heath's or that I lived in District Five where red is the usual. I don't like drawing attention to myself. It's uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Heath says, sitting down on my bed. "Ready to go?"

"You're not going with your family?" I ask.

He shrugs and opens his mouth to say something but then decides against it, which is odd for him.

"Cool," I say, filling the silence. He cracks a toothy smile at me and then follows me out to the rest of the house.

"Good morning," Dad says happily, sitting on the same ancient barstool I was sitting at this morning. He sips some hot liquid out of a chipped brown mug, his tired, worn face smiling broadly. Mom and him must love Reaping Day in a way. It's one of the only days they can spend time with Dawn and me.

"Morning," I answer shortly, as always.

"Shall we go?" my mother suggests quietly, looking down at her old, somewhat broken, watch.

"Sure," Dawn says from behind me. I swivel around to see her dressed in a flowy black skirt with a pretty off-the-shoulder white sweater tucked into it. She smiles sweetly at me.

"Oh honey, you look nice," my mother says, rushing over and smoothing her hands over Dawn's shoulders as if they're pieces of fabric with wrinkles in them. Dawn's cheeks grow red and she shrugs.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I figure I may as well look nice for my last reapings." I swallow nervously. If she can get past today, she'll be home free. _But I'll still have six more reapings to sit through,_ I think worriedly. What are the chances of me making it? _Probably higher than you think,_ I assure myself.

...

I spend the whole half an hour walk to the square listening to Heath spill about more drama going on in different schools. Dawn listens in to some of it and comments more than I do, since it seems Heath knows more about what's going on in her high school than she does. Along the way, I find an old bottle cap on the dusty path, dented but pretty in its age somehow. I pocket it and continue on my way. Eventually, after several short one-word responses to Heath's long rants, we reach the square. I start to tremble and my mother and father hug me, then send me off with Dawn. She grabs my hand and leads me to the line of kids waiting to get their blood drawn. Heath is suddenly silent and I look at him curiously. His eyes are wide and his face is pale and terrified. Almost more terrified than me.

"You haven't taken tesserae," I remind myself. _I haven't taken tesserae._ "A lot of these kids have. We don't stand much of a chance of being picked," I say. He nods his head slowly.

"Next," the Peacekeeper demands sharply. I step forward, my sweaty hand slipping out of Dawn's grasp. The white-clad man grabs my hand and pricks my finger than presses it onto a piece of paper. He scans it, nods, and motions for me to step aside. Dawn smiles at me reassuringly and then steps over to the other line of kids getting their blood drawn, closer to the side of the square she's supposed to be at. I nervously tap my fingers against my thigh and wait idly by as Heath gets his blood drawn.

We don't have to walk far to get to the 12 year olds section, but I still feel largely out of place as I shuffle through the crowds of mingling teenagers to my spot. Heath stands next to me and we wait in unusual, suspenseful silence until our frightening escort, Mr. Dunes, steps up to the microphone, his high heels clicking. I don't really understand why people wear those shoes. I remember my sister had to wear my mother's high heels for her 8th grade graduation, and she'd hated every bit of it. For an odd, grateful second, I'm glad I don't live in the Capitol where I'd have to go along with those stupid trends. I watch Verdane Dunes while the video is playing. He gazes over the crowd as if he knows how much power he and his Capitolite people hold over us. All of us. I wonder what it'd be like to be him.

And then suddenly, silence cascades over the square again as the video finishes, and Verdane steps ominously up to the microphone. He says something about the video and selecting a female tribute, and then floats to the immense bowl. My hearing grows a little fuzzy and I rub my fingers together worriedly. I have just enough time to hope with everything in me that he doesn't select Dawn's name, and then his long arm retreats from the bowl with a piece of paper he quickly unfolds and reads out.

"Charlotte Bowman," he says loudly. I sigh in relief and feel a small smile grace my features, then instantly frown. Whoever Charlotte is, she probably has a family too. _But… Dawn is safe,_ I think, looking down at the ground and letting a ghost of the previous smile appear.

The girl walks up to the stage with the help of some Peacekeepers and I realize there's something different, shiny almost about her tanned skin. I don't have much time to really study her though, because Verdane is now moving towards the glass bowl for the boys. I watch with scared anticipation as he reaches a snake-like hand into the swamp of off-white pieces of folded parchment. He quickly selects one and unfolds it.

"Emrys Langley," he reads out clearly. _No_ , I think instantly. _No._ I feel tears start to well up in my hazel eyes. _No._ My brain won't stop repeating the word. I don't know what to think for the first time in a long while, but I know I want to get out of here. _No._ I look around stiffly and realize everyone seems to be looking at me except for Heath, staring straight ahead, his brown eyes wide. How do they know it's me? I'm trembling. Is that it? If I don't step up maybe they'll think I'm not Emrys. Someone pushes me slightly and the Peacekeepers start to notice the source of the attention. I step out into the central aisle before anyone can do anything. A cry of pain comes from the 18 year old girls' section and I glance over, trying to find Dawn, but I can't. A few people look sad. Maybe that's because I'm 12. I'm only 12. _Am I going to die? Is this it?_ It feels like a long walk to the stage, longer than what it actually is. The tears in my eyes blur my vision and threaten to spill over. And then I'm at the stairs and I'm shaking as I step up. _No._ The word sounds more pitiful now, like a plea. Like maybe this is a hyper-realistic dream. Then my foot misses the next step and slides and I fall, my face hitting the hard concrete. The two Peacekeepers behind me roughly grab me and haul me the rest of the way up. I swallow nervously as Verdane Dunes glances at me, his harsh eyes betraying the smallest of emotions.

I glance over to my left at Charlotte, who has wrapped her skinny arms around herself and has her eyes closed. I realize suddenly that what I saw earlier were curious scars winding their way around her limbs and face. I gulp nervously and look out at the crowd. _No._ A warm, helpless feeling courses through me and I feel like throwing up. _No._ Verdane asks me how I'm feeling and shoves the microphone in my face. The word keeps running through my head and I feel sweat drip down my forehead. Everyone can see me right now. _Please just ask Charlotte,_ I think helplessly. _Please._ And for the first time in what seems like forever, I can't think of anything right to say. So I don't say anything.

 ** _A/N:_** _hey guys, i'm back! sorry for the delay, i finished half of this last saturday and was planning on updating sunday but then the superbowl happened and i live in america so it's basically a national holiday lmao. also your girl made the dive team! it's really painful cause i'm as graceful as a snail so i just flop a lot lol.. also i'm kinda pissed rn cause my water polo coach sent an email out to my team that she needed to get a team together for this really litastic seven day tourney or something in Hawaii and i'm like holy heck sign me up so i email her back and she's been like ignoring me ig cause just yesterday i overheard my teammate say she was approved to go to Hawaii and i just saklfhdkjsklf sorry for getting off topic lmao_

 _i may or may not update sooner than expected because i have this monday off thanks to a pal named Abe Lincoln. depends whether i'm feeling up to smash out another chapter on my mom's deteriorating macbook_

 _don't forget to review! it really makes my day to read reviews :) what did you think of these two? how far do you think they'll make it?_

 _\- knifey :)_

 _shower thought of the day: if i die, all of you guys would think i just gave up on the SYOT(which won't happen so if i don't update for like a month it's prolly cause i'm dead lol)_

 _(also this has nothing to do with ff but if you have an ig pls follow my photography acct gigitakespictures)_


	6. Chapter IV - Behind The Sea

_**Chapter IV - Behind The Sea**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District Four**_

 _ **D4M17 - Adrian Tenera Dunbar**_

The gentle rays of the sun shoot boldly over the lapping waves as I stroll towards the beach. Warmth hits my sun-tanned face and I let a smile grace my features. My bare feet slap against the boardwalk as I start to near the docks. An old man is slouching on a large grey rock, his loose clothing flapping loudly in the sea breeze. He turns when he hears my feet swishing through the sand and raises one eyebrow at me.

"Dunbar. What are you doing here, it's Reaping Day," he says, his voice twangy. A pink-tinted seashell is in his calloused fingers, the sun's rays glinting off of it.

"Aw, you know me, Mr. Zale," I say, cracking my usual crooked smile at him. "I never take a day off."

He laughs, then looks back towards the sea. "Alright, kid. If it makes you happy, I guess I don't have a problem." He nods his head towards the dozens of boats tied to the dock. "Opal's in for repairs, so you can take Lucy," he says, talking about the sailboats.

I nod a quick thanks to him even though he doesn't see it and then make my way over to the cream-colored sailboat they call Lucy. I toss my oyster net to the side of the boat and then untie all the lines. I make sure she's headed in the right direction and then start on my way out to sea. I sigh, satisfied, and close my eyes for a few seconds, letting the heat of the sun wash over me. The sound of the waves floods my ears and I open my eyes again. The sun's risen almost completely by now, sending warm light into the green-blue ocean. I drop the anchor and pull the top half of my wetsuit over me, zipping it up. I run a calloused hand through my long dark auburn hair and then put on my humiliating swim goggles and pick up my oyster net.

I take three breaths and then one long one and sleekly dive down into the murky depths. People say swimming is like flying but I guess those people have never gone swimming before. Swimming is like standing still, pausing time. Nothing exists for as long as you're under the waves. At least, for someone who can hold their breath as long as I can. I start collecting oysters, abundant in the sea of District Four. I'm about to come up for another breath of air when I see a particularly large oyster lying off to my right, just out of reach. My lungs burn for air but I push myself and swim over to it, grab it, and then kick furiously towards the surface.

After a few more dives, I decide to head back to the shore and dock my boat. As I coast in on the waves, I glance downwards at the water. The beautiful grey-tinged seafoam with a dash of teal and blue and- I stop myself before I think too much and reach over to my left wrist. I tug gently on the light blue bracelet, shells carefully interwoven in it.

As I get closer to shore, I see two familiar figures on the golden beach. I dock Lucy and then drop the bag of oysters at the shed for some other fisherman to shuck. I haven't shucked an oyster since Sirena was killed.

"Hey, Merlin," I say, jogging over to where my little brother and his friend Caspian are sitting. Merlin scrambles up, kicking up sand.

"Hey," he says back, then turns and holds out a hand to help Caspian up. Caspian stands up, brushing his short blond hair away from his eyes and I'm struck, not for the first time, at how similar he looks to his older sister. Before she went off to the Hunger Games, Sirena asked me to take care of her little brother Caspian, and I've never once failed to do that. And his blurry relationship between friends and more than friends with Merlin has made me even more like a big brother to him.

"What are you two doing here?" I ask, smiling crookedly at them.

"If we didn't come and bother you, you'd be here fishing all day," Merlin says, slinging an arm around Caspian and flashing the same casual smile back at me. "Am I wrong?" he adds, before I try to say otherwise. Granted, I _was_ about to take a spear from the fisherman's shed to go out spearfishing, too.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" I ask. I gesture for him to unzip me and then let the wetsuit hang around my waist.

"Dad said you left early and I kinda just assumed you'd be here or…" He side-eyes Caspian who kicks at the sand uncomfortably. _The graveyard._ Typically in District Four, we cremate our dead and then scatter the ashes into the sea, but we have a large graveyard near the center of the District filled with headstones and empty graves.

"Yeah. Uh… you guys wanna eat some breakfast?" I offer, nodding my head towards downtown District Four beside the sea.

"Old Sam's?" Caspian suggests, a hopeful smile lingering on his face. I laugh, shrugging.

"Sure," I say, then turn and lead the way to the old homey seafood restaurant.

By the time the three of us settle down at an ancient wooden table smelling like the sea, Caspian's already halfway through an overly exaggerated story that definitely did not happen the way he's making it sound. Old Sam the Third hobbles over to our table, a peg leg making tapping sounds on the creaky wood. "Hey there, kids," he says, giving us a yellow-toothed smile.

"What's up, man?" Merlin says in response, giving Old Sam a fist bump. He pours us all water, exchanges some friendly conversation with us, and then asks us what we'd like to eat. Caspian orders more than he can possibly eat so Merlin decides to finish what he can't. I ask for fish and chips, nothing special. People don't usually work on reaping day, but Old Sam's slogan is 'Open 24/7 even on Reaping Day,' so nobody's surprised when they hold true to their word.

I take a sip of my drink and then look outside at the groggy streets of District Four. I think my district must be the most welcoming districts I know. It's tight-knit, wealthy, and prosperous. We've got a pretty good way of life around here. The bright sun beats down on me from a dusty old window, warming my skin. Across from me Caspian finishes his story and chugs his glass of water.

The food doesn't take long to get to us and we wolf it down, pausing to talk every now and then. It seems like hours have passed when we're all finally done.

"Hey, Old Sam!" The old man looks up from the kitchen in the back of the nearly empty restaurant. "What time is it?"

He peers around the corner of the kitchen and then flashes eight fingers at me. I give him a thumbs-up and then turn back to Caspian and Merlin.

"Looks like we've got some time to kill," I say.

"What do you wanna do?" Merlin asks.

I shrug in response and we all look at each other for a few seconds, waiting for someone to suggest something. "Aight, well I dunno what you two are gonna do, but I'm gonna hang out with my friends," I say, patting the table and standing up.

I walk up the front counter and slide a 20 pae bill to Old Sam who takes it gratefully, a warm smile on his weathered face. The old boards creak under my still bare feet as I walk out of the restaurant and down the now somewhat busy streets of District Four towards Delta's house.

It's not much bigger than the beach-side shack that I live in with my family, but it's comfortable and home to one of my four closest friends. Of course, they'll never be as close to me as Sirena was. Nobody could replace her. It's not often you fall in love with your best friend, and I know it. I guess I never really fully appreciated what I had until I didn't have it anymore. Now I know just how valuable it was. I bite the inside of my mouth, trying to block thoughts of her out of my head. A year ago today things could have been different if someone had volunteered. I swallow as I remember how she had looked as she walked up the aisle to the stage. The way her long blond hair the color of sand flowed behind her. The way her seafoam grey eyes were stone cold until she'd spotted me in the crowd.

"Yo, what's up, man!" I blink my jade green eyes rapidly, coming back to the real world. Delta stands in front of me, running a hand through his slightly overgrown red hair. He flashes a cocky smile at me, but tilts his head. "You good?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine," I lie. He won't know. Nobody ever knows when I lie.

He nods his head slowly, his smile fading. "Oh, come in bro, Nile's here," he says, moving aside to make way for me. I feel strangely unwelcome in his house seeing as ever since last year I haven't been spending nearly as much time as I used to with my group of friends. I know Sirena would have wanted me to stay close with them, but I basically threw them away to dedicate myself to work and lost myself in a sort of depression that Merlin mercifully dragged me out of.

"Adrian?" Nile says when he sees me. He's leaned back on the ragged brown couch, his feet kicked up. "What's up? Haven't seen you in forever. What made you wanna show up?" he asks, his passive aggressive attitude seeping through his easy smile. He glances behind me at Delta and checks himself, lowering the snarky smile and glancing away from me.

"I dunno. Thought I'd just check in or whatever," I say, suddenly and unusually _very_ uncomfortable. It's not like I've completely shut these people out of my lives, I've just avoided them as much as socially possible, spending time with them at lunch and school, but that's been mostly it.

"What's up with the wetsuit?" he asks.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I was pearl-diving," I say flatly.

"Ah. On Reaping Day?" he asks, his easy smile coming back.

The three of us exchange conversation for a while until I look at the clock and realize how much time has actually passed. "Aw shit. Sorry guys, I gotta get back to my family and get ready. See you guys later?" I say, backing out of the house. Nile salutes me sarcastically and Delta gives me a warm smile.

"Sure, man," he says. I smile back at him and then dash out of the door and back down the streets to the beach I call home.

When I get there, I quickly peel off my sleek black wetsuit and throw on a button-down baby blue shirt, pairing it with old sun-bleached shorts. I carefully comb out my tangled auburn hair and then slip on some sandals before stumbling out the door after Merlin. We casually walk towards the center of our district, where the town square is. Merlin's telling me about something cute Caspian did yesterday, when we walk past the graveyard. I find myself instinctively reaching to my left wrist to rub the seashells and lose my mind in the gravestones. I know exactly which one hers is. She'd made it to the final five before they killed her.

I swallow, ready to curl up and try to block out the world when a warm hand touches mine gently. I blink down at Merlin who stares up at me with worried eyes. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," I lie again. He frowns.

"You're lying." Right. I can't lie to Merlin, or at least I can't get _away_ with lying to Merlin. He can always call my bluff through my infamous poker face.

"Doesn't matter. I'll be fine," I say, digging my hands into my deep pockets. His frown deepens but he doesn't say anything, just turns his head towards the walkway ahead of us. Eventually we reach the square, our parents say goodbye to us(my mother's goodbye lasting much longer than my father's), and then we're pushed by the flowing crowd towards the line of kids getting their blood drawn. Everything around me is triggering memories of that fateful day last year. How can a life change so drastically in one second? Things shouldn't happen like that.

Merlin and I get our blood drawn and then we walk to the boys' section together. We stop at the fifteen-year-olds' section and he hugs me then walks away to find Caspian. I rub a hand over my mouth and then continue on to the seventeen-year-olds' section where I wait in terrible suspense for this to be over. Finally, our longtime escort appears on stage, wearing a large pink coat with sharp, spiky shoulder pads and baggy grey jeans. Her face is pale and soft-featured, like plastic. Capitolites stopped using plastic a while back, though. Now they use some material I can't even pronounce nor do I care to pronounce.

" _Hello_ District Four!" she says primly into the microphone. The crowd cheers insanely as she drags out her words like she's some superstar at a concert. " _I'm_ Lily McAllen and I'll be _your_ escort this year," she says, pointing at the crowd with an electric blue colored leather glove. She must be _melting_ in that outfit.

I choose to ignore most of what she says until she unexpectedly heads towards the boys' reaping bowl first. She reaches inside and daintily picks a slip out with her leather-clad hands. _Please not me,_ I think. The Academy didn't choose a male volunteer this year, so anyone who's reaped will probably be the one going into the Games.

"Caspian Dolorem Nicchi," she says, leaning towards the microphone. "Come on up, kid! Enjoy your few minutes of fame," she says happily, not knowing there are no volunteers this year.

It takes me longer than I'd like to admit to understand exactly what she said. I guess my subconscious recognized the name and already went into denial. But by the time I say, "I volunteer!" Caspian's halfway up the aisle, his haunting seafoam grey eyes the same stone cold as hers were. He swivels on his heels, eyes wide. I notice his hands are balled up in fists so tight that his knuckles are a pale white. Some of the district recognizes me as 'that one kid who was dating that one girl last year' and sigh sadly at the thought that now I'll die too. _Tragic,_ I think. Honestly, I'm not thinking much right now except that I promised her I'd protect Caspian.

Lily looks at me, satisfied at how I look like an average volunteer. She has no idea. Guess she'll never know. _Nobody needs to know,_ I think. Of course, my district partner will know I'm not the chosen volunteer, but I have skills in spears and I can swim like a devil so maybe the Careers won't see a difference. _I might not actually die,_ I think hopefully. _I have a chance._

"What's _your_ name?" Lily says, bending forward a little and tossing her unusually natural blond hair around her bold shoulders.

"Adrian Tenera Dunbar," I say, flashing my typical crooked smile at the nearest camera. _I have no idea what I'm doing_.

 _ **D4F17 - Auklet Flanagan**_

My internal clock wakes me up at 6:30 as if I'm going to go on my morning run today. I try to go back to sleep, but I can't, so I end up tip-toeing out of my room and down the freshly swept stairs in my sister's mansion that my family lives in now. Sometimes I wonder if she'd rather live alone than with all of us. If I were a Victor like her, I don't know what I'd want more.

I step into the pearly white kitchen and silently crack open the cereal cupboard. I pour myself a bowl, wincing at the loud sound, and then add milk. Sighing, I grab a spoon and sit down at the long breakfast table. The cold of the tile seeps into my bare feet and I shiver, pulling the hood of my grey Academy hoodie over my head. It's old and has some small holes in the pockets from when my dog, Sirius, was a puppy and chewed everything he could see. It's the most comfortable hoodie I have though, and I don't mind showing off that I'm a trainee at the Academy.

As I finish my breakfast, I hear a light tapping on the floor and groggily turn around to see my dog. He sticks his long brown nose into the air and sniffs at me. I smile at him and stand up to put my dish away in the dishwasher. He follows me back into the kitchen and I rub his head lovingly. He wags his short tail and barks quietly, which sounds more like a loud _huff_ than anything.

"Shh," I say, putting a finger to my upturned lips. He whines and pads away around the corner, only to reappear momentarily, holding his long green leash between his teeth. I put my hands on my hips and sigh. "Fine, alright. You win. We're going on a walk, buddy," I say. He drops the leash and barks happily, recognizing the word 'walk'. I wince again and try to tell Sirius to be quiet, but it's too late by now so I just grab the leash off the floor, clip it to his collar, and slip on a pair of sandals. Then I creep out of the house before anyone can yell at me. Not like anyone would care anyway.

I run a hand through my dark brown hair, letting it fall smoothly down to my back and adjust my athletic shorts uncomfortably. It's a warm morning, surprisingly warmer than the inside of the mansion, so I'm more than okay with being outside rather than cooped up with my family. I suddenly feel Sirius pull excitedly on the leash, realizing which direction we're headed. I laugh and unclip him, letting him run ahead. District Four requires all dogs to be leashed when out in public, but I know Sirius won't get into trouble. He turns and waits for me at the corner of the block, his fat tongue hanging out of his mouth happily.

It only takes us a few minutes to reach my boyfriend Gull's house, especially with Sirius excitedly bounding ahead whenever I catch up to him. I knock on the door, curling my slender pale fingers around Sirius's collar so he won't jump on Gull the second the door opens.

I knock again and this time the door cracks open a bit to reveal Gull's hazel eyes peeking through at me. "Lettie?" he says groggily. I laugh and push open the door wider. "What're you doing here so early?" he asks. Then his eyes grow wide with realization. "It's Reaping Day isn't it?" he asks, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

I nod, a tiny smile edging its way onto my face.

"Oh," Gull says. He runs a hand through his auburn hair and looks down at the floor. "I mean, I want to be happy you for, babe, I really do," he says, looking up at me again. "I know how big this is for you, I just… it's gonna suck watching you up on that screen."

"I know…" I say, reaching my arm behind me and rubbing a sore spot on the small of my neck. "But I'll be back before you know it," I say. _Plus, I'll prove everyone wrong,_ I think to myself. "You wanna go to the park?" I ask, referring to one of the plenty parks District Four has scattered around. They're just long, flat patches of fake grass, but then again District Four isn't known for its parks, we're known for our beautiful beaches.

"Sure," he says. "Let me change first. He dashes back into the depths of his house, leaving the door open. I carefully step inside, still gripping Sirius, who's threatening to pull my finger out of its socket.

I follow Gull into his small, messy room and plop down on his bed, letting Sirius go. I fold my arms behind my head and lay down, looking up at the smooth cream-colored ceiling. "I wonder what the Capitol's going to be like in person," I say.

"Probably just like it does on the News," Gull says sarcastically. I turn my head to look at him.

"Ha ha," I respond dryly. He wrinkles his nose at me, a smile spreading over his face. "But really. Pretty things are always prettier in person," I say. "The blue one," I add when he holds up two shirts for me to look at. I watch him pull it on and then sit up. He looks at my bare legs and gestures at his closet.

"You can borrow something of mine if you want," he says.

I consider saying yes because wearing oversized clothes from my boyfriend is possibly one of the best feelings in the world, but then I remember where exactly I'll be this time tomorrow morning and decide against it. I'll have to return his clothes before I leave anyway. Just in case…

 _No. Nope. Not gonna return the clothes,_ I think to myself. Besides, who says I won't be coming back? If the Academy chose me to be the volunteer this year then they believe I can win, and so I will.

"No, I'm good. It's a warm morning," I add so it doesn't seem weird. "Thanks though."

He smiles warmly and sits besides me on the bed. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his warm shoulder. I almost don't want to leave, but it's too late to change my mind now. It's only a few weeks anyway. I'll be back before either of us knows it.

"I'll miss you so much," I say, my voice muffled. He murmurs something back and tucks my hair behind my ear then plants a kiss on the top of my head.

"Don't go partying with those other Career boys," he says. "They're all idiots." I laugh and look up at him.

"Don't worry, I won't," I say, still smiling. We sit in silence like that for a few minutes, Sirius digging through Gull's piles of clothes at our feet. His fingers curl around mine, resting on the bedsheets, and I close my eyes, trying to make this moment last forever. I wonder when - or if - I'll get another moment like this or if the Games will change me too much. _They won't. I'll be fine,_ I assure myself. _They didn't change my sister and they won't change me._

"Ready to go?" Gull says suddenly, surprising me slightly. "Time's a wastin," he adds, cracking an easy smile.

"Sure. Let's go," I respond, stretching my legs. Usually I'm always sore from training so hard, but my trainers recommended a few days of relaxation so I'd be ready for the Games.

"Ready to go on a walk, Sirius?" Gull asks, standing up and talking in a baby voice to my dog. Sirius barks in response and bounces around Gull, twisting excitedly.

...

There's a small park nearby both of our houses, so we make our way over to that one and then settle down on a light brown park bench. Sirius goes running off across the grass, probably chasing a butterfly or something. Gull and I sit there in silence for a while, listening peacefully to the musical sounds of the birds chirping and people waking up around town. Sirius comes bounding back to us soon, an old red ball held tightly between his jaws. We play fetch with him for a while and I try to forget where I'll be headed in a few hours.

In what feels like a few minutes, Gull says he's got to head back home and get ready for the Reapings, so I hug and kiss him and head back to my own home with Sirius. I knock impatiently, tapping my foot against the cement until my older brother, Nautilus, opens the door. He's 19, a year older than my other brother Arthur and two years younger than Aqua, my only sister.

"We thought you'd run away or something," he says, blinking his dark green eyes at me. He's the only one in the family with our mother's blond hair, and I'm the only one with her brown eyes. It seems like I'll always be destined to be ordinary sometimes, what with the common combination of brown hair and brown eyes and an average height. Nothing like my sister, a near-goddess according to my parents.

"Are you kidding? This is the most exciting day of my life," I say, raising my eyebrows. This time I'm not lying as much when I say it. The closer I get to the actual Games happening, the more excited I get rather than nervous. I push past him into the house, where my family is busily rushing around getting ready.

As per usual, I'm greatly overlooked in the hustle. I pour Sirius's dog kibble into his bowl and set it on the floor, then refill his water dish. He happily chows down, looking around curiously every now and then at the excitement going on around him. I climb the stairs and close the door to my room, breathing a long sigh. I pull a thin, pale turquoise dress off of a hanger in my closet and slip it on after throwing my hoodie and shorts on the messy bed. I press down on the fabric to smooth out the wrinkles and notice blue wave patterns embroidered on it in darker colored thread. I twist slightly, watching as the dress swishes around my legs.

Satisfied, I dig through my jewelry box until I find my favorite necklace. I hold it up in front of the window above my dresser, admiring the way the sunlight shines off of it, then I carefully clasp it behind my neck and let it fall elegantly on my chest.

"Lettie?" I jump, slightly surprised at my sister poking her head into my room. "You ready to go?" she asks. "I have to be there early."

"Uh, yeah," I answer. She steps into my room completely and I frown slightly when I see her dressed up in a similar blue dress, but pulling it off way better than I ever could. Of course she's going to upstage me.

"You sure you want to do this? It's never too late to back out," she says quietly, biting her lip. I narrow my eyes at her. _She doesn't think I can do it_ , I think sourly.

"Yes," I answer coldly. "I'm sure." With that, I step past her and stomp down the stairs.

"You don't have to prove yourself," she calls after me, to no avail.

"Ah, are we all ready to go?" my mother asks, smiling up the stairs at where Aqua is standing. I huff, annoyed, and head out the door after my brothers.

Along the way, we talk about who's volunteering this year and it almost surprises me when they forget I'm the designated volunteer. _Almost_. "We don't have a male volunteer this year, do we?" my father asks, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

"The Academy couldn't choose one. Nobody was good enough," I state flatly, staring straight ahead.

"Hm. That's unfortunate," my dad says in response after a few seconds of silence. I roll my eyes, irritated, and try to ignore everyone and my intruding thoughts until we reach the square.

Then I quickly get my blood drawn and file into my section, where I stand on my tiptoes and crane my neck to try and find my best friend, Seela. "Lettie!" I turn to see the familiar blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl I've known most of my life. "I'm so excited for you," she says, smiling broadly. "Ooh, I wonder who your district partner is going to be! Hopefully someone cute," she adds.

"Seela, I'm dating Gull," I remind her, laughing.

"Well, yeah. There's no shame in some eye candy," she says, winking. _Seela would be a very great stereotypical career if she trained_ , I think, not for the first time. "You think we have a new escort this year?" Seela asks, biting her lip and looking at the stage. She's leaning back slightly, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping on the fabric of her black jean shorts. She looks like a regular model.

"Don't think so. The Capitol _loves_ Lily," I say, referring the only District Four escort I've ever known. It almost seems like she doesn't age at all. Seela opens her mouth to say something but is cut off by the superstar-sounding voice of Lily McAllen.

She rambles on about our district and the Games, and then she seems to realize she's losing most of the audience's attention. "Let's change things up this year and draw a male tribute first!" she says happily, waiting for a reaction from the crowd that doesn't come. Not letting it faze her, she steps lightly towards the boys' bowl and picks a pale piece of paper off the top of the pile. Whoever's reaped will have to be the male tribute this year, unless some stupid guy is going to volunteer before he's ready. "Caspian Dolorem Nicchi," she says, her voice ringing around the square. "Come on up, kid! Enjoy your few minutes of fame," she adds, completely oblivious that there won't be any volunteers.

I stand on my tiptoes again, trying to see who it is. There's a bit of movement in the fifteen-year-olds' section and I let out a breath. _Looks like it'll be a bit easier for me,_ I think, right before a voice shouts those two fateful words.

"Oh, shit," Seela breathes when the guy steps onstage. He has the same colored hair as Gull but it's longer and falls in waves to his muscular shoulders. A confident crooked smile plays out across his freckled cheeks. "I'd hit that," she adds, a little louder than I'm comfortable with. A few girls around us turn and glare at her.

I recognize his face, but when he says his name, I remember seeing him pearl-diving at the same place my parents and I dive at. My parents always talk about how dedicated and hardworking he is, as if they don't realize how determined _I_ am, sitting right in front of them. A few people in the crowd make a sad murmuring sound, and I remember vaguely that his girlfriend was reaped in last years games when there were no female volunteers. She was killed unnecessarily brutally by the District Two male, which cause a bit of a rift between our two districts for a while. There was talk of District Four dropping out of the Career pack for good.

"Oh, how lovely!" Lily says, smiling broadly. She winks at the camera for what seems like no reason whatsoever, and then saunters over to the girls' reaping bowl. She pulls the top slip off the pile, wasting no time whatsoever. "Oh look! We have the same first name!" she says, laughing into the microphone. "Will Lily Yaomi please make her way to the stage?" our escort says.

"I volunteer!" I say out of instinct. Then all the thoughts break into my mind, flooding it. _Shit. What are you doing? This is happening. Oh wow. Holy shit. This is happening. People know me now._ I can feel my hands shaking slightly, so I stretch my fingers out, trying to calm down. It's not like I've never done anything scary before. I love proving myself to people. There's no better feeling than praise.

"Oh, aren't _you_ lovely?" Lily says when I reach my designated spot, leaning towards me like she did with Adrian. She stands a few inches shorter than me even with her tall pale green heels. "What's your name?" she asks.

"Auklet Flanagan," I say into the microphone. I spot my parents in the back of the square, looking a little shocked, and I step back from the microphone, a satisfied half-smile creeping onto my lips. I stand up on my tiptoes, folding my hands behind my back. I glance over to my right at Adrian, who stares out at the crowd. I wonder if he's ever been overlooked. _Probably not,_ I conclude, noting how muscular and athletic he looks. I turn my head to look back out at the crowd as Lily wraps up her speech. Behind me and farther to the right, I know Aqua is sitting with the other Victors, watching me. _Everyone knows me now,_ I think happily to myself again. _My parents finally see me. I'm not ordinary anymore._

 _ **A/N:** hey guys i'm back! sorry for the long delay, i had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason. i really really love both of these tributes and i was really scared i'd mess them up in some way, lol. anyway, if you want to know when i'll be updating/the playlist to this story, it's all on my profile. these are the last careers! thanks to Krystal Fox for Auklet Flanagan, and LongingForRomeo for Adrian Tenera Dunbar. also, i don't think i remembered to thank the people in the last chapter, so thanks to Elim9 for Emrys Langley and TheAmazingJAJ for Charlotte Bowman. _

_don't forget to leave a review, i love love love hearing from you guys! let me know you're reading :) who do you like better? who's your favorite career out of all six of them? who do you think will make it farther?_

 _\- knifey :)_

 _shower thought of the day: why don't they call combination locks permutation locks? (haha geometry joke, i'm so funny)_


	7. Chapter V - Devil Town

_**Chapter V - Devil Town**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District Five**_

 _ **D5F16 - Arda Menninker**_

I stare at the blank white ceiling above me, trying to prepare myself for getting out of my warm, _warm_ bed. I can vaguely hear my parents downstairs making breakfast, but the thought of eating makes me want to stay in bed even more.

A sudden _thud_ makes me sit up straight, and I turn to look at my window. _Probably just a bird,_ I think to myself, flopping back down on my bed. The fluffy pillows bounce up around me and I smile to myself, grateful my family isn't in some financial crisis like most others here in Five. Both my parents hold pretty high jobs in the huge nuclear power plant at the center of the district. It's a scary, intimidating job, but my parents seem to be able to handle it and because of them I've always wanted to be an engineer, too. Sometimes my parents let me tag along with them and especially since I'm older now, they let me play around with the tools and teach me more about their line of work.

" _Arda!_ " I hear the familiar voice from outside my window and smile to myself. Another _thud_ sounds out and I spring out of my bed, towards the window. I unlock it and slide it up, putting my elbows on the sill and leaning my head in my hands.

I yawn, the crisp morning air biting at my pale skin and twirling loose strands of my almost equally pale blonde hair in front of my contrasting brown eyes. Looking down, I see my best and only friend, Zephyr. I flash a quick grin down at her and she reflects it back up at me. "What's up, babe?" I say.

"Nothing much, just waiting for your lazy ass to wake up!" she answers, her head tilting back and a loose laugh escaping from her lips.

"Well what d'ya wanna do, Zeph?" I ask, another yawn threatening my question.

"I was thinking… we've got a few hours to kill before the Reapings start, and I've got nothing to do 'til then except worry, so what do you say? Wanna have ourselves a little adventure?" she says, her hand twisting the left handlebar on her old rusty bike. Her bright grin fades into a hopeful smile and I roll my eyes.

"Fine, but give me a few minutes," I tell her. Her grin comes back in an instant and I can't help but let it spread across my face, too. Then I slide the window shut and start making my room pretty again. I fold my blankets and pull the comforter up nicely, then pick dirty laundry up off my floor and throw them into my hamper. I busily push through the clothes in my closet and land on some old loose ripped jeans and a colorful, warm sweater. I quickly pull it on over my underclothes, slather some lotion on my skinny ashy legs, and then spray something nice on myself after giving my pits a quick sniff.

"Arda! Don't make me come up there, 'cause you know I will!" Zephyr says, her laughter barely staying out of her voice. I smile broadly to myself and then slip on some comfortable shoes by my door before hopping over to the window and sliding it open again. I'm about to step off onto the roof before turning back around and scooping up a pae or two just in case. Of course, there's no real need to sneak out the way I am, but I'd rather do this than deal with my parents throwing insane amounts of food at me in the hopes I'll get over my anorexia.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Can you get my bike?" I say, concentrating on not losing my footing on the damp roof of my two-story house. I reach the end of the roof and carefully climb down the old wood lattice that my parents once tried to grow an elegant vine on. I jump down, directly into a puddle, and groan, shaking my hands free of muddy water.

Zephyr lets loose a merciless laugh and covers her mouth with her hand. "You dumb fuck!" she jokes, laughing. Trying to pretend like I wasn't just offended by her comment, I make a sour face and bite my lip. "Come on, let's go," she says, softer because I think she's at least a little sorry about what she said.

I hop onto my bike and follow her as she speeds through the muddy puddles, sending waves of dirty water fanning out on either side of her. We race past my slumbering neighbors, Zephyr yelling and laughing the whole way. Sometimes she'll do tricks and show off, especially if she sees someone cute walking by, but I'm perfectly satisfied just quietly biking beside her, laughing and smiling every now and then. I'm not as bold of a person as Zeph is, and it sometimes feels like I'm the background singer to some big popstar, but I don't have as much of a problem with it as most people seem to think I do.

"I think that one just winked at me, Arda," Zephyr comments happily, standing up on her bike and closing her eyes. I look up at her and envy her bliss for a second, so I decide to make it for myself too. I stand up next to her, my feet digging into the pedals of my bike. The breeze seems to wrap around me and carry me forward, combing through my hair and pounding lightly on my shoulders and face. I let loose a laugh and Zephyr joins in, and for a minute we're invincible. Then Zephyr sits back down and I follow suit and we slow our bikes to a smooth halt as we approach the busy downtown area.

A few dirty kids sprint across the intersection in front of us, giggling maniacally. Zephyr laughs and then nods towards an old woodwork shop next to her favorite bookstore. "I don't think we've been there before," she says, raising an eyebrow at me.

I grin at her and take off towards the shop, narrowly missing another little kid. I lean my bike against the dusty window of the shop so that I'll see if anyone tries to steal it, and then I grab Zephyr's hand before she's even completely off her bike, and practically drag her into the shop. The intense aroma of wood and old people hits me square in the nose and I smile at Zephyr. "I don't think I've ever smelled wood before, really," I say. It doesn't smell anything like the skinny, dying trees planted along the richer roads of the district.

"It smells kind of like a ton of books," Zephyr notes, her nose twitching happily. I let go of her hand and shuffle over to a long shelf of carved creatures.

"Omg, look at this one," I say, pointing at a gnome-looking thing with a twisted face. I kneel down beside it and try to mimic it, making Zeph laugh embarrassingly.

"You kids here to buy anything or just make fun of my work?" a loud voice questions from down the aisle. I stand straight up and fold my hands behind my back politely when I see the aging owner of the shop.

"We weren't making fun of it, sir," Zephyr says, her expression serious for once. She glances at me, a side smile blossoming on her face. " _She_ was." I narrow my eyes at her and then shove her roughly.

"So sorry, we'll be leaving now," I say quickly to the old man, backing out of the store. "Zeph! I'm never going back there again!" I say when we're outside, feigning anger.

She snorts and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Not like you'd ever have a reason to, anyway. Bet that place goes out of business in, like, a week," she adds.

I huff and cross my arms. "Actually, Zephyr, I've been really into woodwork lately. I'm always in the mood to just get right into a new project!"

"Is that so?" she says, tossing her hair and leading me towards the bookstore.

" _Yeah_ ," I say, nodding my head and trying not to smile.

"Sure, ok. Oh! I found this new series a few days ago and I instantly thought of you!" Zephyr's face lights up as she gushes about the series and how much one of the characters reminds her of me. I pay attention as best I can and end up sitting cross-legged with her in a warm corner of the bookstore with the entire series in a pile to my left and the first one in my lap. Later, one of the employees has to come over and ask us to leave, explaining that they're closing early for the Reapings.

"What?" I ask confused. Then I look over at a clock up on the left wall of the store that reads 9:30. "Shit, I have to go," I tell a mildly surprised Zeph, jumping up to my feet. She shrugs and waves at me.

"See you at the Reapings," she adds as I push past the employee and out of the store. Thankfully, I find that both Zeph's and my bike are still leaning against the window, albeit Zeph's is missing a tire. She'll be able to handle that though. I grab my bike, spin it around in the direction of my house, and start pedaling away.

…

I get to my house in mere minutes and dart inside, bounding hurriedly up the stairs. "Honey, where have you been?" my mom calls from the dinner table as I speed past her.

"With Zeph, Mom! I gotta get ready!" I shoot back, out of breath. I quickly peel off my sweaty, muddy clothes and exchange them for a flowy white knee-length dress. I pull my blonde hair into a silky dutch braid and then slip on some nicer-looking shoes.

"Don't forget to eat something, honey," my mom says, eyeing me as I walk down the stairs.

"Uh, I'm good. Thanks, Mom, but I'm really not that hungry," I say, avoiding eye contact with her.

"Hm," she murmurs, and then rubs her temples as if she's reading my mind or dealing with a headache.

"Eat something when we get back, alright kiddo?" my dad says from behind me, squeezing my right shoulder warmly. I bite my bottom lip and don't say anything in response. "Are we all ready to go?" he says. I nod and my mom stands up, loops a purse around her shoulder, and then follows my dad out the door, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I'm following.

We talk about engineering and how the nuclear power plant is going while we walk, and my parents tell me about the newest thing they're working on and offer to let me see when they go back to work tomorrow. I hug them both goodbye and then wander off to the line of kids getting their blood drawn. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to find Zephyr in the crowd of nervous girls. "Next," the Peacekeeper says. I tear my eyes away from the crowd and hold my hand out to the woman who pricks my finger and presses it against the white paper. She scans it, reads my name, and then waves me into the crowd.

"Arda! Over here!" I hear the familiar voice from off to my right in the depths of the sixteen-year-olds' section and turn to see Zeph waving wildly.

"Hey, Zephyr," I greet her warmly with a smile and a hug.

"You heard the news?" she says, looking up at the stage.

"What news?" I ask suspiciously.

"We have a new escort this year! Supposedly young and hot, too," Zeph adds with a wink. I roll my eyes and am about to say something witty back at her when the boom of a microphone interrupts me.

"Hello, District Five," a young man says from the middle of the stage. He looks about 20, with scruffy unnaturally natural dark brown hair and dark eyes. He has pale skin and seems pretty average from where I'm standing, which is a little weird, considering he's from the Capitol. "I'm Ziv Zephyr," he says in a boyish voice.

" _Oh my God_ ," Zephyr breathes beside me. I stifle a laugh as she clings to my arm. "He has my _name_ ," she squeals. I snort loudly and a few girls turn to glare at me, making my cheeks go red and starting Zephyr on another giggling chain. I try to calm her down as Ziv talks about what a pleasure it is to represent our district. He shows us the usual anti-rebellion video and the one explaining the Dark Days and then he walks over to the girls' reaping bowl.

I watch in quiet suspense as he reaches in a hand and pulls out a slender slip of paper. "Arda Menninker," he reads out, glancing over the girls standing in the square.

 _What_ , I think. _Yeah, that's me._ My eyebrows furrow together and I turn to Zephyr who looks as confused as I feel. "I guess I really won't be going to that woodshop again," I joke.

 _ **D5M16 - Bronte Tomlinson**_

"How about this one? He's kinda cute," I say, gesturing to a small fluffy puppy yapping excitedly at the mesh fence containing him. "Hey, buddy," I say, kneeling down and sticking my fingers through the little holes so he can sniff me. "Elissa's a terrible, mean-hearted person who doesn't want to adopt a perfectly good boy like you and give you a better home." The puppy barks loudly and my lips turn up in a smirk. "You hear that Elissa? He doesn't get why you're so cruel, either," I say, looking up at my best friend.

She sighs, exasperated, and puts her hands on her hips, tossing her copper hair around her shoulders as if she's not used to it being that short. "For the last time, Bronte, I don't need a dog right now. Besides… uh… Mum's allergic to dog hair!" she says, leaning forward and grinning as if she's finally stopped me.

"Haha, very funny… _liar_ ," I say, wrinkling my nose at her. "Come on, adopt him, he loves you!" I say, turning back to the little guy. He sniffs my fingers curiously and then bites down _hard_. "Ow!" I yelp, jumping back.

"Sure, he definitely seems to like _you_ ," Elissa says, stifling a laugh. I glare at her jokingly and then put an arm around her shoulder, directing her further into the dog pound.

"Think about it. Wouldn't you love to have a guard dog?" I ask, looking around for a good example.

"I don't really need one…" she says, trailing off.

"Sure you do! Everyone in District Five could use a guard dog," I say, stating the obvious. "Think of all the things that have been stolen from you," I point out.

"Bronte," Elissa protests. "That's just one more mouth to feed. And an annoying mouth, too," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Aw lighten up, Elli. Dogs are cute!" I say, grinning and skipping off to a large brown and black dog.

"Don't call me Elli," I hear her mutter behind me.

"Look at this one!" I tilt my head at the dog who pulls back his lips and snarls at me. "He seems really friendly."

Elissa kneels down beside me and stares at the dog who barks loudly at her. "I'll take him," she says.

"Wha- excuse me?" I say, not sure I heard her right.

"What?" she says, looking at me with a barely hidden, rare smirk. "You said I needed a guard dog and you're not wrong."

"I mean, I didn't really expect you to want to buy a dog," I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Who said anything about _buying_ him," she says softly, looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody's in sight. "Think you can break down this door, _engineer_?" she says, nodding toward the dog kennel and crossing her arms.

I bite the inside of my cheek and turn to the dog kennel. The brown and black dog growls up at me and I wrinkle my nose at him. "How are you gonna bring him home?" I ask.

"There's a leash in his kennel," Elissa points out, gesturing to the rope hanging from a peg at the back of the kennel.

"Wow, they really put that in a convenient place," I say sarcastically. "Alright, if you really want one. He better love me or I'm never coming over to your place again," I warn her.

"Mhmm," she says. I curl my fingers around the holes in the kennel gate and then come to a happy realization that there's no lock on it. Laughing, I unhook the latch and pull it open just enough for Elissa to squeeze through. She gets down on her knees and holds out an upturned hand for the dog to sniff and with the other, she reaches for the leash. Eventually, the dog starts to lick her fingers and yaps happily.

"Wha-" I say quietly, bewildered. _Some guard dog…_ I press my face up to the mesh and make a questioning face at Elissa, who laughs in response. She hooks the leash to his collar and then leads him out the gate. "What are you, a dog whisperer?" I ask, befuddled.

"Nah, I'm just more likeable than you," she says snarkily. I huff and follow her as she walks out the way we came. Surprisingly, nobody stops us, although we pass one tired-looking man who nods quietly at us. I wave at him as we leave and Elissa shushes me, picking up her pace.

"What are you gonna name him?" I ask when we get outside. His ears are folded but I can still tell he's listening attentively to everything going on around him by the way he walks with a sense of purpose and holds his head up as if sniffing the air. It's like he's never been out in the open world before.

"Name? How about… Dog?" she says. The dog turns around and barks once. "See? He loves it!" she says, her lips turning up into a happy smile. "Ready to see your new home, Dog?" she asks.

"Wow, that's… creative," I say, nodding my head sarcastically.

"Aw, shut up. Dog is a very refined name," Elissa says, swatting me playfully on the arm.

"Mhm," I say.

"Well it's better than _Bronte_ ," she snaps back.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," she assures me, looking across the road. I snort and follow her gaze.

"What time are the Reapings?" I ask.

"10:30. We have like an hour. I'm probably gonna get picked, to be honest. You know how much tesserae I have this year?" Elissa says, glancing down at the ground.

"Don't be silly. There's tons of kids in our district who have much more than you. I mean think about all those super poor kids!" I say, nudging her affectionately.

"Sure, whatever. You've never gotten tesserae before in your life, you wouldn't know how scary it is." While that's right, I've never taken tesserae, I still know how scary it is. My older sister Courtney took insane amounts of tesserae until I could work as an engineer and earn money for our family. Since my father died in the solar plant, we've been a little tight with money, which is weird considering all I've ever known is comfort.

"Yeah, you're right," I say to Elissa. She can think what she wants to think. "I'm probably gonna split," I say jerking a thumb in the general direction of my house. "Y'know, spend some time with the fam."

"K," Elissa says, her eyes on her new dog. "Say bye, Dog." He doesn't do anything but sniff determinedly at the dusty ground.

"Seems like a really obedient guard dog," I comment, nodding my head in mock approval.

"Shut up, we're working on it," she shoots back at me with a half smile. I swivel back around with a quick wave, and start on my way home.

My neighborhood is entirely awake by now, parents busily putting together their families and dressing their kids in the nicest outfits they have, because for that rare chance that their kid is the one dying this year, they at least gotta look nice. So it doesn't come as much of a surprise when I traipse into my house to be bombarded by Courtney throwing nice clothes at me and telling me to wear some of those clothes that pair well together. "And don't forget to eat something!" she yells after me as I stumble down the hallway with the immense pile of fresh, warm linen.

The first outfit I try on is a button down white dress shirt with grey slacks, and I decide to stop there. If the first outfit is good, then I'll settle with it, and anyway, I can always tell Courtney that I tried on all of them before finally deciding on this masterpiece. "Aw, they grow up so fast," Courtney says sarcastically when I walk casually into the kitchen, my hands digging into the pockets of my slacks. But I can tell a little bit of her is impressed at least partly.

"I toasted some bread for you," my mom says, leaning over the dirty tile counter and sipping a bit of some drink in a chipped pale cream mug. "Thank _God_ you fixed that thing last month or we'd be going breakfastless for a while now. What do you say we go and buy cereal or something other than toast after the Reapings?"

"That sounds great, Mom," Courtney says, sliding me a plate with a piece of browned toast on it, still smoldering slightly. "Speaking of, we should probably get on our way now, if we want to be on time for once," she says pointedly.

"Let me finish eating," I say through a mouthful of breakfast. Mom and Courtney watch me finish off the piece of toast, Mom sipping her drink thoughtfully at even intervals, and Courtney crossing her arms and tapping her right foot in mock impatience. "Okay, okay, I'm done. Let's go," I say, starting on my way out only to stop, remembering something. "Crap, wait, you guys go ahead, I'll be right back."

"Don't forget to lock the door behind you, lil bro," Courtney says, following Mom outside.

"You got it!" I shout back, dashing through the hallway towards my room. I hurriedly push through the junk in my drawer until I find the old marriage ring my dad had before he died. I roll it around on my fingertips before deciding to put in my pocket instead of on a finger. For some strange reason, it seems too public to wear it, I guess. I close the drawer, breath a deep sigh, and then walk out of the house, remembering to close and lock the door behind me.

…

"It's still weird that my name's not in that bowl anymore," Courtney says, biting her lip in thought. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't miss this, it just seems kind of strange, seeing as how it's been a part of my life for so long. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I see where you're coming from," I say, nodding my head along as she keeps talking.

"I'm really glad I'm done with it. Just super nervous about you. For once I can't really control what happens to you. You know, I always took tesserae so you wouldn't have to, right?"

"Yeah, you won't let me forget it," I joke.

"Can't do that now that I'm 20," she says quietly. _She needs to go and make a life for herself._ I feel like I'm dragging her down somehow, but I don't say anything about it. "Oh, you'll be fine, Bronte. Your name's only in there like five times, right?"

"Right," I say, swiveling to face her and my quiet mother, since we've arrived at the district square.

"See you later, bro," Courtney says, ruffling my jet black hair. I huff in mock annoyance and comb it back into its typical fringe style with my fingers. Her hazel-colored eyes flash mischievously at me and I narrow my nearly identical ones at her before hugging my mom goodbye and being practically dragged by the crowd towards the near-center of the square. After getting my blood drawn, I find a place in the sixteen-year-olds' section and wait solemnly until the new escort shows up. He doesn't look much older than me or my sister and strikes me as a pretty normal person. The way he talks freaks me out, in that it's completely normal. _What a world we live in, where normal becomes abnormal._

He reaps the girl tribute before I even realize he has the slip of paper in his hands, so I instantly stand straighter and try to pay more attention. The girl's pretty skinny with pale hair and pale skin. For some reason she doesn't look very nervous, just maybe a little frazzled.

"And now for the boys," Ziv says into the microphone. I brace myself, tensing up. "Bronte Tomlinson," he reads out. I hadn't really realized my eyes were shut tight, but now that I'm suddenly aware of everything going on around me, they snap open wide and I look around in shock. A few boys turn to look at me, recognizing my expression as the typical 'reaped' expression. _But I've never taken any tesserae!_ A kid next to me nudges me slightly in the direction of the aisle and I take a few steps toward the stage. It feels like forever until I'm standing in front of the district, my hands shivering at my sides even through the Spring warmth.

I'm more determined now than I've ever been in my life. I'm determined to make it home to my family and Elissa and I'm determined to survive. It seems like I can hear every sound down below me in the square. Like if a pin dropped, I could hear it even through the crackle of Ziv's microphone. Like this is the first time I'm really out in the world. _I'm Dog_ , I think with a shaky realization.

 _ **A/N:**_ _yoooo sorry that was a hella long delay :/ it took me a while getting started on these tributes, but aye at least i finished them.. oof. i was planning on updating yesterday, but then i had to go to sleep early so i could wake up at 2am and get on a flight that wouldn't leave til 5am lol spring break does that to ya ig  
also since it's spring break, i'll probably post one more chapter this week(or maybe two if i can squeeze another one out *hopefully*) but also i risked my teacher not checking homework on friday and it paid off but now i have a ton of work to do before monday  
ok so actually looking at my week, the only rlly free day i have is tmrw lol YIKES guess we'll see what happens! wherever the wind takes us..  
THANK YOU SM IF UR STILL READING THIS *like bruh what a dedicated person i can't believe good people like u exist wow amazing thank u :)*  
and a special thanks to Lazulies for Arda Menninker and District5Chemist for Bronte Tomlinson_

 _i was gonna mention this in the last chapter, but i decided to make a form of currency for Panem(paes) get it cause europe has euros and panem has PAES (i should be in charge of all currency) basically, it's the same as a US dollar cause like panem is in post-apocalyptic US_

 _don't forget to tell me what you think! who is your favorite of these two? who do you think will make it the farthest? i love reviews, they really make my day :)_

 _-knifey_

 _shower thought of the day: have i shampooed yet? (hahahah get it? i'm hilarious)_


	8. Chapter VI - Red Balloon

_**Chapter VI - Red Balloon**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **District Six**_

 _ **D6M16 - Sheridan Artega**_

The air is still kind of chilly from the rough winter we had, but I like it. It's a good wake up from the few hours of sleep I managed to catch last night. I swing my feet over from the ledge by the open window where I've been perched for a few minutes, watching life in District Six pass by on the street. My feet hit the ancient wood of the house, the panels creaking obnoxiously as I make my way towards my dresser. I pull out a plain grey shirt and pants, get dressed, and find my well-worn work boots by my bedroom door.

Not bothering to say anything to mom, I step lightly downstairs and check the cupboards out of habit. It's not like there'll be anything in there, there wasn't anything there last night and since I know my mom was in her room all night jacked up on morphling, there was no way she'd be able to get us food. Like I can count on her for anything, after she basically left me to raise myself. But still, every morning a little voice pipes up that maybe today's the day. Maybe today is the day it all gets better. But it won't. It never does.

Sighing, I throw open the flimsy front door and step out onto the crunchy frost-covered grass. For the middle of spring, we're still experiencing tough mornings. I just hope that the market's produce hasn't been affected much by the cold. I can always count on the market, open every other day, to provide me with a meal.

"Morning," I say, waving politely to my neighbor, who's sitting on their porch sipping a mug of something.

"Good morning, young man! It's always nice to see a friendly face around here," she says, smiling brightly. People here are easy like that. Spare them a kind word and they give you the key to anything you want. Even if the kind word is bullshit.

"Whatcha drinking, Ms. Evans?" I ask, stopping at her gate and digging my hands into my pockets. The scraggly lawn is riddled with holes and weeds, but I don't think anyone cares. It's probably the nicest looking lawn in this part of the district, this shithole that I live in.

"Just some hot cocoa. Did you think it was coffee? Oh honey, coffee is much too expensive for me," she eyes me warily and then beckons with a hand. "You look cold, would you like a mug?"

I nod, and follow her inside. "Thank you, ma'am," I say warmly. She pours hot water into a mug and gestures for me to sit in a creaky chair pushed up against a just as creaky table, splinters standing out at all edges, waiting for an unlucky hand.

"Why are you up so early on Reaping Day?" Ms. Evans asks, not looking up.

"I decided to get an early start, ma'am. I'm headed to the market," I answer, twiddling with my thumbs. It seems almost colder inside her house, so I pull my sleeves up to cover most of my hands, only exposing my slightly tan fingertips to the cold.

"Please, call me Tupelo," she says, handing me the warm mug. I wrap my stiff fingers around it, eyes wide. I think the last time I had hot cocoa was when I was maybe eight. "Be careful it's hot," she warns kindly.

"Thank you, ma'- Tupelo," I say, her name feeling foreign on my tongue.

"Not a problem. Why are you going to the market?" she asks, her dark eyes flicking over my face in an expression that begs to point out how I won't be able to afford even the cheapest thing there.

"Just looking. I have some money saved up from my job at the factory, if I see anything I can afford," I add.

"You should be spending that money on rent," Ms. Evans says(her name still feels uncomfortable to say). "I doubt your devil of a mother has any money left."

"Don't worry, I have rent covered," I answer politely. I've never had many conversations with Ms. Evans, just a few friendly hellos here and there, never more. I've never known why she lives alone, why her left eye seems to always look a different direction than her right, or why she keeps gaining pounds when she can't even afford coffee. But I guess she makes it _her_ business to know everybody's else's business.

"Right," she says, skeptically. I drink my cocoa at record speed, rinse the mug, and put it on a towel to dry.

"I should really be getting on my way," I say, stepping away from the kitchen. "Thanks again for the hot cocoa, Ms. Evans, really."

"Come by anytime, dear. You're always welcome," she answers back, waving. I casually walk through her yard and out her gate, but once I'm in the cobbled street, I dart past the houses, trying to get to the market as fast as I can. It's a hell of a run, too. The market is in the nicer part of town, where people can actually afford to make grocery trips.

I stop just short of it and pat down my black hair, trying to look a little better than 'just a mangy street rat'. Usually the market would be in the district square, but it's been moved a little ways to allow the Peacekeepers more time to set up for the Reapings. Speaking of, the Reapings have never really bothered me. Instead, they've just been a mild annoyance in my life. Sure I've taken my fair share of tesserae, who wouldn't pass up free food? But I'd rather focus on the here and now than what _could_ happen in the future.

Once my breathing is back to normal, I start walking through the market, pausing every now and then to look at the displays, but really just keeping an eye out for someone I can use. Eventually, I spot a well-dressed middle-aged man holding a basket of food in one hand and looking over a loaf of bread skeptically in the other. A little kid sprints past him, accidentally knocking the basket out of his hands. Not my best option, but it'll do. In my experience, the elderly are best as they always seem to have nothing left to lose. Nevertheless, I turn and make my way towards him.

"Let me help you with that," I say, kneeling down and picking up the scattered food.

"Thank you," he says, seeming somewhat surprised. "You seem awfully kind to be living in District Six."

 _And you seem awfully rich to be living in District Six,_ I think. "Thank you, sir. I always try to help someone every day."

I place the food in his basket and look at the loaf of bread in his hands. _Breakfast._ I skim over the shop's sign reading _Fresh Bread from District Nine_ in bold lettering. No wonder this man's the only one here. Who could afford this? "Isn't it strange that we can make bread anywhere in Panem, yet District Nine is centered around it?"

"Yes, I find that very peculiar. But apparently District Nine makes a lot more than just bread. I mean look at all of this!" He gestures at the display of baked goods and the shopkeeper grins broadly. "Try one," the man adds.

"I would, but I'm lacking the cash," I say, still looking at the impressive display of food. "This really is splendidly-made bread." The shopkeeper puffs out his chest slightly. _Probably not even from District Nine,_ I think.

"Tell you what," the well-dressed man says. "Since you were so kind to me, I'll pay it forward. Literally." He hands a few paes to the shopkeeper and points at a large loaf of golden bread.

"Thank you, sir," I say, smiling politely at him. We go our separate ways, and I tear into the bread, sighing gratefully. I could go to the square and wait until the Reapings start, or I could wander around the market. I decide to wander, chewing on my breakfast and looking at the other goods on display. I wave and nod politely to people that I recognize, and have a few small conversations, but I don't expect much else for the day. I've already got everything that I need so far.

The market starts to thin out around 9:00, everyone leaving to get ready for the Reapings. Since I don't have much else to do, I end up helping various shopkeepers close up and clean up. Some of them reward me with food or money, others with just a kind word or two.

A while later, I start on my way towards the square, hands nestled in my pockets again. My mother crosses my mind once, but I ignore the thought and resolve to just get the Reapings over with and find something else to do for the rest of the day. The square is packed by the time I get there. I make idle conversation with anyone I recognize from school or work while waiting in line. Eventually one of the Peacekeepers scans my blood and waves me away, satisfied. I find my place in the sixteen-year-olds' section and wait quietly for the escort.

He appears onstage in no time, waving happily to the cameras. "Hello, people of District Six," he says loudly into the microphone, his cheshire grin never fading. "My name is Manx and I am you're new escort!" He has an impossibly large nose, curved so the tip looks like it's about to drip off of his face. He has skinny bird-like legs that end in a pair of large bright red shoes. His head is round and bald, his pasty white skin shining in the sunlight. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Manx recites the story of Panem and how it came to be, speeding through the Dark Days and the two failed rebellions. Everyone's heard this stuff, not only from the Reapings. It's in our schools and in our media and in our conversations. The Capitol will never forget, they've made that clear. "Now that we've gone over _that_ , let us get started on the _real_ show, shall we?" Manx says, his voice changing from monotone to genuinely excited. "Ladies first!" He steps clumsily over to the glass bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. The entire square goes silent and you can almost hear the slight crinkling as he unfolds the stiff paper. "Adelyn Wrench," he reads out. He could have whispered it and we all would have still heard it.

I look over towards the girls' section of the square and catch a rustling in the seventeen-year-olds' section. Immediately after I notice this, a girl steps out of the crowd and heads towards the stage. Her brown hair bounces around her face, a little shorter than shoulder length. Once she reaches the stage and turns towards the audience, I can see her more clearly. She has sharp features and dark eyes that look brown, like mine. She's slim, not stick-thin like I am, more of a slightly athletic figure. She's wearing toned down clothes in shades of black and grey and her expression is stony. She looks different from all the other past tributes, almost like she could actually stand a chance.

"Wonderful! Now for the boys," Manx says, not even looking at Adelyn. He snatches a piece of paper from the identical glass bowl and unfolds it carefully. "Sheridan Artega!" he reads. My breath catches in my throat and when I release it, I think maybe it'll be a sob but it's a low chuckle. The boy next to me turns to stare curiously and that just gets me chuckling more. More people turn to look, making it obvious who I am. By the time Peacekeepers have arrived, ready to escort me to the stage, I'm laughing shamelessly. The goddamn _Hunger Games_! Out of everything, all my effort to survive, I get pegged by this. Peacekeepers push through the crowd and haul me towards the stage, but I don't stop laughing, not yet. And in that moment - the entire district looking at me, I guess all of _Panem_ looking at me - I decide to not give a crap about the Games. I'll enjoy my few days of luxury and I'll survive when it comes down to it, but I won't worry about the Games. I'm not going to stress about them and I'm not going to try harder than I have been all my life because really what does it _matter_? I'm hopeless.

The Peacekeepers push me up the stairs and my laughter shudders to a stop. My legs carry me towards my designated spot. They don't feel like jelly, they just feel hollow. I realize a few things once I'm onstage. First of all, Manx's grin hasn't faded at all. If anything, it's only gotten more unhinged and deranged-looking. Second of all, Adelyn doesn't have brown eyes, she has dark blue eyes, blinking curiously at me from across the stage. She also has a smattering of freckles across her face, a tiny detail I hadn't noticed from a distance. Faintly, I can hear Manx closing the Reapings, but I tune him out and instead subconsciously search for my mother's face in the back of the square. _Maybe she didn't come,_ a voice says. But I hold out and keep looking for her hopelessly, even as I'm being told to shake hands with Adelyn, even as I'm being escorted into the building where I may or may not see her for the last time.

 _ **D6F17 - Adelyn Wrench**_

"Up and at 'em," my dad says, throwing a pillow at me.

"Dude!" I say, blocking it with my arm and rolling over in my bed. "Let me _sleep_ ," I groan.

"Not a chance. C'mon, it's the first day I've had work off in ages!" my dad says. That's not exactly true. Yesterday morning he came back from one of his cargo trips, telling stories of how the sunsets in Seven paled compared to ours. Not exactly surprising, seeing as how factory emissions always seem to cloud the air.  
" _Fine_ ," I say, rolling out of bed.

"Great! Jessamine is making breakfast, thought you might want to help her," my dad adds as he leaves my room.

"Make breakfast?" I ask incredulously. "You want me to poison everyone?" He just shrugs and laughs down the hallway. Sighing, I comb a hand through my not-quite-shoulder-length brown hair and look at the outfit I'd picked out last night for the Reapings: a black skater skirt paired with a short-sleeved grey top. Since it's a pretty cold day, I decide to throw on a black jacket before heading down to the kitchen.

"What's up, Jess?" I greet, hopping down the stairs and giving her my signature grin.

"Bacon. Your mom got it from one of the butchers yesterday," my cousin replies. My dad's sister died giving birth to her, so we took her in. She's the same age as me, so really she's only ever been another sister and a best friend. Like a twin.

"Mm," I say, my stomach growling. Hammer, the family dog, comes bounding up behind me and nudges the inside of my knee. I scratch the top of his head lovingly. "They almost done?" I ask, pulling a bag of dog food out of a cupboard and pouring it into Hammer's bowl.

"I mean I guess," Jess says with uncertainty. "I don't really know. Wanna be the guinea pig?"

"Definitely," I say, leaning over the counter. I take a bite out of a particularly crisp-looking piece of bacon. "Mmm. These are good, dude."

"Bacon?" my little brother, Marcus, says from the stairs. Hammer bounds towards him happily. Marcus has always been kind of the complete opposite of me: shy and sensitive and no humor whatsoever. "Thanks, Jess," he adds.

"You would not believe how beautiful the fields of Ten are looking this time of year," my dad says from the kitchen, his feet kicked up casually on the table. "Flowers everywhere, of all different colors!" Sometimes I think maybe he exaggerates things from other districts to make up for the drab of Six.

"Sounds beautiful," my older sister, Cora, says from the seat across from him. I can almost see the slight bulge of her womb if I really look for it. I wonder what she's going to name the baby. Hopefully it's better than _Adelyn_. I've never really liked my name. It's always sounded like I'm some ditzy rich girl from District One.

"I think I'm gonna ditch," I say, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door. "You wanna come, Jess?"

"Nah, I still have to get ready for the Reapings," she says, always being the more sensible one.

"Fine, but you're missing out, babe!" I say, laughing.

My shoes make rhythmic tapping sounds against the cracked sidewalk as I wander down our street and eventually, although I had no particular destination in mind, I end up at my friend's garage.

The sound of clinking tools suddenly interrupts the few bird calls. Smiling, I make my way into the garage to see Lillian leaning over the front of an old car, her dark eyebrows pinched together in concentration. Her light brown hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head, loose tendrils of it falling in front of her face. I lean casually against the side of the car and cross my arms, waiting for her to finish. Eventually she twists around to put a tool away and spots me. A grin blossoms across her perfect face. "M'lady," she greets.

I tip an imaginary hat at her and smirk. "Business on Reaping Day?" I ask skeptically, nodding towards the car.

"Yeah, you wanna help? We could add it to your paycheck," she says, her light blue eyes flicking back down at the car.

"Not really," I say honestly, walking around to stand next to her. "Can't this wait til like tomorrow?" I ask, reaching a hand up to the hood of the car and tilting my head at her.

"I _guess_ ," Lillian says, wiping her hands on a towel and then putting her tools away. "What do you want to do?" she asks as she cleans up. I help her, since I know where everything goes from years of working here.

"Let's go on an adventure," I say.

"On Reaping Day? There's going to be _so_ many Peacekeepers," Lillian groans.

"Psh," I say, waving a hand to show they're merely a faint annoyance. "No big deal. It'll just add to the fun," I say, winking at her.

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the familiar glint in them. That constant hollow feeling in my chest comes back, like a dull flame reignited every time I see her smile or her eyes or the little freckles on the nose of her bridge that you need to search for to see. My stomach doesn't do backflips and my throat doesn't close up like a little girl sick on puppy love, I just know it's there. The feeling that I would do anything to be with her, I just don't know how. I've never been the best at showing affection. Instead I just crack jokes and avoid any serious or awkward situations.

"Ready?" I ask, shuffling backwards out of the garage. She follows me outside and we talk and laugh loudly until we eventually reach the old abandoned trainyard off on the outskirts of the district. "Really, just an amazing environment," I say, mimicking the voice of a Capitolite. "Full of real life nature and…" I pause to over-enthusiastically sniff the air. "...Definitely _interesting_ scents."

"Smells like rat shit," Lillian mutters, wrinkling her nose.

"You would know," I answer back with a crude laugh.

"Hey, fuck you," Lillian retorts jokingly. She sidles up beside me as I wander through the rusty train graveyard. "I've never seen you in a skirt before," she says.

"Really? I'm _sure_ I've worn one before," I say, holding my arms out and spinning so the skirt floats up around me.

"You're too gay for skirts," Lillian says, hopping up on one of the olds railroads beside me and putting one foot in front of the other, her arms spread out on either side in an effort to balance herself as she walks.

"Hey man, that's homophobic," I say sarcastically. She can't _really_ be homophobic, especially since she's about as gay as I am, if not more. I'm just bi, but I swing more towards girls than boys. It wasn't the most comfortable thing at first, especially since everybody else was different than me. That is, until Lillian told me she's into girls, too. And bashing gays when you _are_ gay is kind of like making self-deprecating jokes. It's totally fine if _you_ do it, but once someone else does, it's completely uncalled for.

I spot a flipped train, lying on its side like a dead animal, and point it out to Lillian. She hops off the old railroad and follows me to it, watching as I climb it. My arms pull me up quickly, my muscles toned from years of working in the garage and going on spontaneous adventures or dares like these. When I reach the top, I flip around and lean on my elbows, letting my legs dangle off the edge.

For a few seconds while Lillian's making her way up, I'm alone. And it feels nice. However extroverted I am, I will always appreciate a little alone time. Even when I'm not alone, sometimes I feel it. Like I'm lost or empty… Maybe that's why I take so many risks and live life so boldly. Maybe it's just so that I don't feel like an empty shell any longer. But however hard I try to run away from it or drown my loneliness by surrounding myself with friends, I can't. It's just there, the same way my feelings for Lillian are.

"It's quiet here, huh?" Lillian says softly, pulling herself up next to me. She reaches behind her and pulls her hair out of its bun.

"Yeah," I say. "Is that what you're wearing to the Reapings?" I ask, looking over her grease-stained clothes.

"I mean, I _was_ going to change into something nicer, but you kinda whisked me away," she says. "But hey, now you'll look a lot better compared to me."

"Dude, you have no idea how sexy that is," I joke. "You'll probably start an entirely new trend. You know, _look-like-you-work-but-don't-really_. Let's hope you get reaped so the entirety of Panem can see this."

"You're dumb, Addie," Lillian says in response, but I can hear a hint of a laugh in her voice.

"Sick burn. Really got me there," I say sarcastically.

…

We spend a while at the trainyard, playing around with random shit we find until we decide to head back. Lillian changes into a lacy white blouse tucked into black shorts and then pulls me along to our friend Ida's house, which is conveniently along the way to the Square. Ida, as per usual, doesn't say much as we walk, instead leaving the conversation to Lillian and me.

"What's up, pals," Bailey Isaac, another part of the group, says once we arrive at the square, pushing through poor nervous kids to reach us. "How are you not cold, Lily?" she adds, not waiting for an answer. "Have any of you seen Ana? She said she'd meet me here, but I can't find her."

"She's probably off making out with someone," Ida pipes up.

"You know, I wouldn't doubt it," Lillian says, smirking.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ desperate," a voice says behind me. I whip around to see Ana flicking her hair behind her shoulders, one hand on her hip. "Can we go, maybe? It's cold and I'm tired," she says.

"Welcome to the club," I mutter, leading the squad into the line. We have a mildly interesting conversation while we get our blood scanned and shuffle slowly to our designated spots, but Ana dominates it quickly, gushing about some hot guys she saw at school the other day. I share an amused, slightly annoyed look with Lillian, but we don't say anything. However, Bailey, who has absolutely no filter, interrupts Ana with a strangled, exasperated, almost animalistic noise that erupts from the depths of her throat.

"Same," Ida says beside her.

"Hello, people of District Six," our escort says loudly into the microphone, commanding all the attention.

"He looks like a toucan," Bailey whispers loudly. Ida snickers, covering her mouth with one hand.

"More like a clown, really," Ana says, wrinkling her nose. But his face is okay. I give him… a solid four out of ten."

"Really, only a four?" I say in mock disappointment as he quickly skims through the mandatory history lesson. Next to me, I can see Lillian open her mouth to add something, but then Manx moves abruptly towards the girls' reaping bowl and her mouth slams shut like a trapdoor. The entire square goes silent and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest like a jackrabbit. It's so loud in my mind that I can feel my ears go red and my eyes dart around to make sure nobody else can hear it. Maybe they're all too focussed on their own jackrabbit hearts. It's not like it's my first time in the Reapings, and it won't be my last, but my chances of being reaped are high. Not as high as some other girls' chances, but still high. _It won't be me,_ I think. _Why would it be me?_

"Adelyn Wrench," Manx says clearly into the microphone, pronouncing every letter, except he says ad-uh-line instead of ad-uh-lyn and it throws me off for maybe half a second until it clicks almost audibly in my mind. _Fuck._ The word repeats in my head like a broken record, clear and slowly at first and then blurry because _no_ this isn't happening. I can feel my hands start to shake so I instinctively try to push them into my pants pockets, only to feel them slip across the fabric of my skirt. I ball them into tight fists at my sides and take a shaky breath. I can feel first Lillian's eyes on me, and then Ida's, and then Ana's, and finally Bailey's, and then it feels like _everyone's_ looking at me and maybe they are because somehow I found my footing and I'm walking out to the aisle and now I'm walking out to the stage except I can't feel my feet or my legs or really anything. It's like that hollow feeling I feel when I see Lillian mixed with that empty feeling I get when I'm alone but not really alone, except it's all amplified and really I'm just terrified, but I clench my teeth together tightly and set my face and I can feel my jaw muscles pulsing from the pressure. And now the entire district is in front of me and, yes, they _are_ all watching me. I swallow, but the tightness in my throat doesn't really let it go down, so I just stand there, really wishing I could breath, but not daring to. Not yet.

 _ **A/N:**_ _surprise! i'm baaack boyos.. and really sorry about how long it took me to crank out this chapter :/  
but since it's summer, i'm _supposed _to have more free time but also my dudes life goes by so quickly i mean i thought i would have tons of time to kill, but damn these days go by fast and i still have so much shit to do oof  
this was a fun chapter though, i miss writing :) also, guys we're halfway done with the reapings! crazy, right?_

 _just so you don't get too disappointed, the next chapter isn't going to be district seven reapings, it's actually going to be like one of the prologues, from either estella's pov or cetus's.. i'm planning to scatter chapters like those around this syot, so i probably won't warn you anymore haha_

 _also, i definitely didn't plan very well because i totally forgot how big roman numerals can be, so once i finish the reapings, i'll probably stop writing the chapter number in the title and just name it cause otherwise there's no way they'll fit on the table of contents haha_

 _don't forget to show me you're still reading this & review! :) which of these two do you like best? any tributes that stand out to you yet? also if you have a shower thought, pm me :)_

 _also, thank you to iridescenteverdeen for Adelyn Wrench and Elim9 for Sheridan Artega_

 _\- knifey :)_

 _shower thought of the day: a bowl cut is just infinite bangs (courtesy of iridescenteverdeen)_


	9. Interlude I - Estella Eden Has a Meeting

_**Interlude I - Estella Eden Has a Meeting**_

 _ **Spring of 3189**_

 _ **Capitol - Estella Eden, 40**_

"Gimme the usual," I yell loudly as I push through the little coffee shop's double doors. The long line of Capitolites waiting patiently for their turn to order all whip around to stare incredulously at me. That is, until they realize who I am.

"Right away, ma'am," one of the baristas says, his face getting suddenly pale. I snicker to myself and gracefully slide off my warm coat as I make my way towards the back of the shop, my hips swaying. My white-blond hair bounces around my face in short, beachy waves. I sit down at my usual spot at a curved booth in the back, near the staff entrance. I unzip my black leather bag and pull out a thin silver laptop. A young couple sitting at a table by the glass wall of the corner cafe start whispering to themselves and cast sidelong glances at me. I smirk, amused, and push my signature aviators up to the crown of my head.

"Stella!" a familiar voice squeals, making me glance up from my work into the silver-grey eyes of Melvina May. "I thought you had your meeting today," she says, softer this time, settling into the seat beside me. She's wearing an old-fashioned lace grey skater dress and the uniform dark green apron labeled _A Taste Of May_ in fancy, curved writing. Underneath, in typewriter font, it reads _coffee shop by day, nightclub by night_.

"I do, I just wanted to get a little work done first. Tie up some loose ends, y'know?" I shut the laptop screen and fold my arms over the round wood table, leaning forward. "So how's it going, babe? Looks like business is as good as usual," I add, nodding towards the long line. Just as I point it out, another barista walks briskly out to our table, a large chocolatey frappuccino in one hand. Her hot pink hair, tied into two complicated braids at the back of her head, bounces on each of her broad shoulders as she places the cup on the table.

"Oh, Kari, would you mind fixing me an espresso? Thanks, dear," Mel says, giving the young barista a warm smile. "It's been great, actually. You have no idea how amazing it is at night," she says, her eyes rolling and her lips pulling apart in a glittering, mischievous grin. "You should come by sometimes. You only ever show up in the daytime. Like… an inverted vampire."

I laugh crisply and lean back, taking a sip of my drink. "You know me, Mel. If I came to one of your crazy parties, I'd end up sitting alone in a corner waiting for it to be over. Remember high school?"

She laughs and runs a porcelain hand through her ruby red curls. "Yeah, I remember. You and Bryden were always like that. But at least you guys were there to save my ass if I ever needed it. _Damn_ , I was always out of control."

"Mel, you still are," I add, my voice playful.

She chuckles and we fall silent as Kari comes back with her espresso. "How _is_ Bryden? I haven't seen him in a while." She takes the lid off of her drink and pulls a small vial of clear liquid out of a pocket on her apron.

"He's fine. Really dedicated to his work. You'd think that out of all three of us, _you_ would be the stylist, huh?" I say.

"Honestly. I do remember him going crazy about the parade and the interviews, though. And you were always crazy about…" she laughs breathily and puts the vial away after adding a few drops to her drink. "Kind of everything," she finishes, cupping both hands around her espresso and just holding it there on the table.

"Yeah. And now look we are! I would have guessed you'd be dead or a stripper, but hey, you're pretty successful," I joke.

"Okay well, first of all, a stripper? Really? But yeah… without you guys I'd probably have drunk myself to death, if I'm being honest."

"Who says you still won't?" I say, nodding towards her drink. "Day-drinker," I add.

"At least I'm having _fun_. _You're_ the one with such a life-threatening job. Does it ever bother you that if someone wasn't particularly satisfied with the show, the president could just, you know… _off_ you?" Mel says, her voice suddenly quieting down to an uncharacteristic whisper.

"I mean, it used to. When I was just a gamemaker. I think maybe it was because I had so many superiors, but now the only superior I have is the president," I say. I take another sip of my frappuccino and sigh, satisfied with the moment. I've made other friends since meeting Melvina and Bryden, but they're always going to be my squad, my _core._

"About the president…" Mel starts. "You met the new one yet?"

"Not in person. I did have to call him a few times to check in about the arena and stuff, though. He seems kind of different than Yanus," I say, referring to the last president we had, who just retired last year.

"What do you mean?" Mel asks, seeming genuinely curious.

"I mean… he seems kind of indifferent?" I shake my head, not really knowing how to describe it. "I don't really know, I guess I have to meet him in person first."

"Isn't he unmarried?" Mel says, disregarding what I said. "That seems kinda weird, huh? He's like 40-something and apparently has never even had so much as a girlfriend." She raises both eyebrows at me in concern for either the poor dude or me. Of course she'd have read every magazine she could get her hands on about him.

"Mel, _you're_ not married," I point out.

"Okay, but I still get _plenty_ of action," she says with a cute little knowing smirk. "Maybe you guys are meant for each other. You're both _way_ too in love with your work."

"Hey, I… get around," I lie. I had a couple of girlfriends back in high school and I think one boyfriend in college, but that's all I can say for myself. Since then I've just been dedicated to climbing that ladder to the top. And now here I am: Head Gamemaker.

"Sure, honey," Mel says, flashing her eyes at me. "When's your meeting?"

"Huh? Oh, shit, right," I say, suddenly remembering. I turn on my phone screen to check the time, and my heart instantly flutters into a panicked frenzy. "In like, ten minutes! Dude, you didn't even let me get any work done," I groan, putting my laptop back into my bag and scooting out of the booth. Mel stands up and hands me my frappuccino, her eyes worried.

"Sorry," she says, and then her face lights up in its usual playful expression. "Don't have _too_ much fun, Stella," she adds, winking at me as I leave the shop, throwing my aviators back down over my eyes and slinging my coat across my left shoulder.

I catch a taxi out on the street and direct him towards the President's mansion. The cab driver does a double take in the rearview mirror when he sees me, but he doesn't say anything other than the toll of the drive when we get there. "I'm late for a meeting," I say hurriedly, ready to dash into the mansion. I slide out of the car but turn back around when the guy starts to say something else.

"Look, lady, money is money and you need to pay," the cabbie says, obviously frustrated.

I sigh and lean over into the open passenger-side window. " _Sir,_ " I start, my voice calm and deadly. "I have very strong ties with the president, and I'm sure he wouldn't want me paying street scum like you my good money that I could use for _better_ things. You should be honored to have driven me. In fact, you should have paid _me_. I don't think the president would take kindly to your attitude. I think, maybe, he'd do something to you and your family that you wouldn't like. Don't you agree?" The man narrows his eyes at me but doesn't say anything. "You seem like a smart man. Now go on your way and I won't tell him a thing," I say, smiling a sweet, toxic smile. He grumbles something, but I step away from the car and he pulls slowly out of the circular driveway at the front of the mansion. I smile happily to myself as I walk through the well-manicured front lawn and towards the double marble staircase curving towards two huge dark wooden doors. Abusing power is kind of my jam.

"Head Gamemaker Estella Eden," a calming woman's voice says loudly as I enter the building, startling me. I must still be on the mansion's home list from my two past years of being Head Gamemaker

"Ah, Ms. Eden," someone says. I tilt my head up to see an old man dressed in a suit and a tie standing at the top of almost identical marble stairs as the ones outside, if not scaled down a bit. "President Altair is waiting for you in his office. Please follow me. You can leave your coat by the door." A Peacekeeper walks up to me and I hand him my coat and also my frappuccino, faint butterflies in my stomach. It's not the first time I've been in the mansion, so I know the layout and where the president's office is, but I still follow the well-dressed old man out of courtesy. He steps aside when we reach a dark wood door, and I thank him and knock politely.

"Come in," a tired voice says in response from inside.

I push the door open and stop short as I take in the mess of an office. It's changed a great deal since the last time I was here for the previous Games. There's loose papers, folders, and books everywhere, some in neat stacks and others in piles on the hardwood floor. I can feel my mouth start to drop open so I clench my jaw, trying to hide my mild amusement and shock. In front of me, the president is tapping away madly behind a laptop, the glass wall behind him looking out at the city obstructed by papers taped up on the window-wall. I clear my throat uncomfortably and the president looks up, his dark eyebrows knitting together over his tired brown eyes. "Who are you?" he asks, shaking his head and shutting his laptop screen.

"Uh," I start, taken aback. "I'm Estella Eden," I say, but the statement ends up sounding more like a question, just like the first time I met the president when I was a new gamemaker. He had laughed and asked if I was sure, and my entire face had gone so red that he apologized at once and ordered someone to bring me iced tea.

I almost expect President Altair to do this, but instead he throws his hands up in a clueless gesture and huffs, exasperated. "I'm a little busy at the moment, so if you wouldn't mind coming back later, ma'am, I would greatly appreciate it," he says, his eyes flicking back down to his work. His hand goes to lift the laptop screen again but I interrupt him, walking forward and taking a seat in the comfy royal red velvet chair positioned across from his desk. He freezes and pins me with a surprised stare.

"I am _Head Gamemaker_ Estella Eden. The Reapings are going to begin in a few weeks, and I am here because we scheduled a meeting to discuss the arena blueprints, muttations, and other plans," I say coldly. I lean over to take a manilla folder out of my bag and set it down on the president's desk. He looks up at me and then at the folder and then back up at me.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, putting his hands on the folder and just holding it there on the desk, much like how Mel was holding her espresso back in the coffee shop. "I've just been dealing with so many issues, you have no idea. My apologies if I seem snappy, I've just been so terribly stressed. In fact, I completely forgot about the Hunger Games." I chuckle and lean back in my chair, kind of curious.

"You _forgot_ about the Games?" I repeat. "You must be really stressed."

President Altair smiles at me, a sort of broken smile, but a smile nonetheless. I nod towards the folder pointedly and he jumps, as if remembering why I'm there again. "Right," he says, opening the folder and leafing through the papers, his eyes skimming over the possible designs I've created. He gets up and paces behind his desk, flashes of cold sunlight peeking through the breaks in the papers on his walls and hitting his dark velvety-looking skin as he walks past them.

"You do seem rather overwhelmed," I say, crossing my legs and flicking my left foot impatiently.

"Hm," he says in response and I can't help but let loose another little chuckle.

"It _is_ rather strange that you… forgot the Games. I don't think any president has ever done that." I lean forward to look at the papers on his desk, feeling much more comfortable now that I know he's not one of those ruthless, insane presidents. I read a bit of a paper mentioning factories in District Eight, but I end up getting bored by the second sentence. This is why I could never be President. "Why did you run for this position?" I ask, realizing that Yanus never dealt with these issues. He always got someone else to cover them for him. He was mostly just interested in the Games. It made me feel somewhat like a teacher's pet, the way he'd wait all year to watch my work unfold in blissful glee.

"I wanted to help Panem," he says simply, sitting back down and sliding the folder back over to me. "These look good."

"Wha- That's it?" I say, my eyebrows coming together in disbelief. "What about choosing the arena?"

He waves a hand dismissively and straightens out a pile of papers on his desk. "You can choose any of those, they all looked fine," he says without looking up.

I tilt my head, amused if not slightly offended. My work has never been taken this lightly before. Especially not by the president. "Well I was a little torn, you see this one would never work, but these two are nearly perfect, don't you think?" I wait for a reaction as I show him the designs, but he just glances up, nods, and then looks back at his own papers. I frown and then push them both forward so he can't possibly avoid them. " _However_ , I was thinking, what if we _merge_ them? What do you think? The Cornucopia could be split. It's been done a few times, just not with these specific arenas, and since they're such opposites, I feel like-"

"Listen, Ms. Eden," President Altair says, holding his hands up.

"Stella," I interrupt.

"Hm?"

"You can call me Stella," I say, smiling warmly. I expect him to offer me his first name as well, but he just shakes his head and corrects himself, much to my surprise.

"Alright, _Stella_ ," he continues. "I understand that you really enjoy this, that this is… your life's work or whatever, but I have more pressing matters on hand that need to be dealt with. Just do whatever you feel is necessary for these Games, okay? I don't need to play such a big role in an _entertainment show_."

"Cetus," I start, standing up. "Can I call you Cetus, is that alright?" I ask, not really waiting for an answer.

"No," he says quietly.

I continue before he can finish even that small word, leaning over his desk, my hands splayed out on the loose papers. "This is not just a simple entertainment show. No, this the fate of a country, of _Panem._ Aren't you here to make Panem a better place? That's what the Hunger Games are about. They show the districts that we are powerful, that we will hold power over _them_ , that we can do anything we want to them at any time. Don't you see? These Games are to help the Capitol prosper, to help _Panem_ prosper. Without it, we would be overrun by rebels. Don't you agree?"

Cetus stammers, tripping over his own words and then stands up so he's eye-to-eye with me. "I'm not talking about making the _Capitol_ better, I'm talking about making the entirety of Panem better. And we won't make Panem better by murdering innocent children."

"Murdering… children?" I say, then laugh, sitting back down in the chair. Cetus is pretty easy to figure out. He's just another sympathizer. A do-gooder. A _real_ teacher's pet. " _We're_ not the ones murdering them," I say, a hint of amusement in my voice. Cetus stays standing up, almost visibly fuming, but in an almost calm, determined way.

"But we _are_ , Stella," he says quietly. I watch in silence as he sits back down in his chair and puts his head in his hands, sighing. "Just… do your thing with the arena. I'm sure everyone will love it." There's something almost defeated and broken in his voice that pulls at me to make him feel better, but I just narrow my eyes, scoop my blueprints back into my folder, and leave the room without a word.

 _ **A/N:** hey guys! i wrote an author's note but i dunno where it went lol  
_the next chapter is going to be district seven reapings, which should be here either thursday or friday at the latest :)

don't forget to review! i haven't gotten any reviews for either of my most recent chapters yet, probably cause you guys thought i gave up haha oops.. anyway, tell me what you think! :) once the reapings are over, i'll be putting a poll on my profile where you can vote for your favorite tributes (try not to vote for your own haha, i wanna see who people are rooting for w/o bias)

\- knifey :)

shower thought of the day: when you blink, your face is just eating your eyeballs (from my sister)


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